Shadowsong
by RedPenn
Summary: The cycle of reincarnation turns once again, and three new triforce-bearers must put aside their eternal feud and work together to stop a force of evil more malevolent than Ganondorf: a dark, twisted shadow who has at last escaped his ancient prison...
1. Forest: Courage

**The Legend of Zelda: Shadowsong  
Book One - Forest**

**Chapter One - Courage **

A veil of mist hung over the forest path, swirling eerily in the darkness. The trees above were ancient and towering, their shadowed silhouettes looming so thickly with gnarled branches that they blocked out the starlight, leaving the leafy forest floor in complete blackness. A faint whisper of wind rose rustling in the undergrowth, bringing with it the sickly-sweet scent of rotting leaves and creeping gray lichen. The path was narrow and dark, winding through the thick wooden trunks and bordered by heavy draping vines and clinging spiderwebs.

A point of dim bluish light wandered warily along the path, flickering slightly like a windblown candle. The crunch of footsteps on the dry leaves underfoot. A murmur of voices, so hesitantly whispered that they could barely be heard over the rustling of the trees. The light, tiny and quavering, emanated from a large, brass-bound lantern plated with burnished glass and bearing a thick brass ring at its peak, so that it could be fixed to the long, hook-tipped pole it swung from. The pole the lantern suspended from was also brass; thick, and taller than its bearer by almost a head. Behind the cloudy glass, a common blue forest-fairy floated lazily like a little mote of light, its wings fluttering slightly from time to time as if being flexed.

The lantern-bearer's face was lit with a faint blue light from his fairy-lantern's glow. He was young, perhaps seventeen summers in age; tall, with fair skin that darkened slightly with the sun. His ears beneath his short blonde hair were long and tapered to points, and they wavered with the slight unconscious motion of a cat's. His eyes were slanted and a deep, resonant blue, made bluer by the flickering light.

"Link?" Behind the lantern-bearer, a girl trod softly, having to skip a few steps to keep up with his longer stride. She was as old as her companion, relatively short, with long braided black hair and green eyes, and her pointed ears drooped slightly as if with fear. The lantern creaked softly as it swung, and her musical voice was barely louder. "Do you ever get... weird feelings in the forest at night? Like unseen eyes are watching you?"

Link looked over his shoulder at her and nodded. "Sometimes, Minuet. But everyone says it's just the forest spirits. Nothing to be scared of."

Minuet shivered slightly as she walked, drawing her cloak more tightly around her as if to ward off a chill, despite the warmth of the night. They both wore those cloaks: thick and woolen and woven of deep green fabric that hung heavy on their shoulders. Link's brushed the forest floor with each step, and shorter Minuet's trailed behind her and rustled in the undergrowth. Sagecloaks, they were called in the village: the sacred garment worn when visiting the forest temple. Link wore his with pride. Someday, it said, he would be a temple Sage, a keeper of the revered ruins deep within the forest. He and Minuet, if she could ever get over her fear of the dark. "I hate visiting the temple at night..." Minuet whimpered.

Link looked ahead into the darkness beyond his little pool of light. "The spirits will protect us, Minuet. Besides, we'll be Sages someday. Even the animals know not to harm us." When she didn't reply, he added, "Remember the story of the spirits? Sage Fado used to tell it when we were little. How the Kokiri spirits once looked like children, and how they used to play here in these woods, and the forest fairies would follow them everywhere. You remember? That's all you're feeling; the spirits."

"No." Minuet murmured, her ears twitching anxiously. "I know what _that_ feels like, but you can feel the spirits watching even in broad daylight, and it certainly isn't frightening. This is something... something else."

Link shrugged and shifted the lantern to his right hand from his left, which was beginning to ache from carrying it. He had never felt one way or the other about the forest spirits, except to know that they were there. But Minuet was sensitive to these things: she could not only tell if the spirits were watching, but _which_ spirit was. Whatever she was sensing wasn't one of the usual spirits then. The boy closed his eyes and tried to open himself to the spirit-feeling, the sense of a whisper just beyond hearing, a touch just unfelt. It was one of the gifts of those who grew up near the forest, a strange connection with it. The forest was a symphony of rustling leaves, some silent animal slinking through the bushes, a quietly shifting keese hanging with folded wings upside-down in a tree. Eyes would do no good here; he strained his senses, his nose taking in the sweet familiar smell of the forest, his pointed ears embracing the sounds of rustling underbrush, the taste of warm night air on his lips, and the brush of the wind against his skin…

And there it was. The strange sixth sense, the sensation of dozens of eyes watching from the swaying treetops. The silent whisper of a million voices mouthing: _Link, Link, Link_...

Minuet was right. There was something else, the feeling of a voice not speaking, of one pair of eyes watching in silence. And as strange as that was, its silence seemed to drown out all the other voices, until Link found himself floating alone in a void, with the silent presence... waiting...

"Waiting for what?" Link murmured aloud, and the sound of his own voice broke through the fragile barrier of sensation. He opened his eyes and squinted against the sudden brightness of the fairy-lantern.

"You felt it too, then!" Minuet gasped, quickening her pace to be nearer the light. "Then it isn't just me. There's something in the forest, something that shouldn't be here!"

"Is it dangerous?" Link asked, trusting Minuet's superior senses.

The girl shook her head. "I don't know. I've felt it before. I guess I've always been able to feel it, but it was just one of the spirits. Only now it's not. Now it's... becoming more real, and it... It scares me, Link."

Link was tempted to ask what "it" was, and how it could be a spirit and then suddenly not a spirit, and for that matter, what becoming "real" meant, but he knew better than to voice the question. Not even Minuet understood how her sensitivity to the spirits worked, and when she got her feelings she often couldn't explain them. He wasn't going to add to her anxiety by asking her questions she didn't have the answers to. "It could be nothing." he murmured, the heavy lantern shifting hands again. "Just a spirit getting closer than usual." But he had to admit, that silent presence hadn't felt like one of the familiar spirits.

The trees all around opened up suddenly, spreading wide on either side to form a sort of road and flooding the world with starlight, and the dirt and leaves underfoot became large slabs of marble paving-stone, cracked in places, and with grass and weeds growing between them, but the grandness of it still sent a shiver of excitement up Link's spine. Out of the darkness loomed carved stone pillars, the feeble lantern-light illuminating their bases as they towered toward the stars. Link ran a hand over the smooth stone of one as he passed, his fingers tracing weathered carvings of an ancient picture: the form of a man with an elaborate sword in his left hand. Link's own left hand tightened unconsciously on the lantern pole, as if he had for a brief moment envisioned it as a blade. _Stop having fantasies_, he scolded himself, _and act the part of a Sage for once_.

And the part of a Sage began with the forest temple. Rising out of the darkness before them was a massive structure of stone, so intertwined with vines and the branches of towering trees that it was impossible to see where the stone ceased and the forest began. No matter how many times he had seen it, Link couldn't help but take a deep breath in awe of the temple, and behind him he heard Minuet do the same. Side by side, they walked slowly up the stone steps to the temple doors, the lantern creaking on its pole as it swung. Link found himself humming quietly, a simple six-note tune, and stopped.

At the top of the stairs, the lantern-light glowed eerily against the heavy stone doors of the temple, which were carved with more images of the sword-wielding hero. "I wonder who he was." Link murmured thoughtfully, raising the lantern so it shone on the hero's face. "He must have been important to have his image carved into the temple like this."

"He was one of the Kokiri spirits." Minuet said, and when Link gave her a funny look added, "Well, he must have been. He's dressed in that green tunic the Kokiri wear in stories, and all the pictures show him with a forest-fairy. Now hurry and open the doors. I don't like being out here in the dark."

Link leaned his lantern pole against the side of the temple and braced his back against the doors. They opened slowly, their stone hinges squealing from neglect as he thrust his weight against them. The darkness within the temple beyond was absolute, and Link reclaimed his pole lantern again before venturing inside. Afraid to be left alone in the night, Minuet followed. "Let's get this over with quickly." she hissed, casting worried glances around at the darkness. "That watched feeling is getting stronger."

Long ago, the Sages had held some sacred duty; a post with the fate of the entire world in the balance. Or so Sage Fado said, for to Link and Minuet the entire world was their village and the forest, and the ancient duty was long lost. Now the duty of a temple Sage was to come once a season to the forest temple and spend a day and a night praying to the forest goddess, Forore, in order to bring about peace and good luck for the village. That would be Link's duty as well, once he completed his training with Sage Fado. The duty of an apprentice Sage was to visit the temple once a month, to take care of its upkeep and scare away any wild animals, such as rats or keese, that might have taken refuge within it. It wasn't a big job, as only the entryway and outer rooms needed to be kept. The inner sanctum was kept securely locked, and only a Sage could enter it.

Link set his pole lantern in the gilded lamp stand in the center of the entryway, illuminating the room just enough to reveal a cavernous hall, its walls creeping with ancient vines and its roof hidden in shadow. An oil lantern would have given off better light, but tradition dictated that no fire was to be brought into the temple, as much for ritual's sake as that there was so much to burn. Looking around, the hair on the back of Link's neck prickled slightly, and he tried to ignore it. The feeling of being watched _was_ stronger here, but if he didn't think too hard about it, it really was no different than the spirit feeling.

"Oh, would you stop humming!" Minuet murmured anxiously. Realizing he had been humming that six-note song again, Link quickly stopped.

They split up on their routine check of the temple, delving into the shadowed doorways of the outer rooms, glancing around as quickly as they dared before dashing back into the entryway to be nearer the light. In each room, Link found nothing amiss, only darkness, a few cobwebs, and that eerie feeling of being watched. At last he came to the final door, hidden far back in the shadows of the entry hall. The doorway that led to the inner sanctum. He knew it was locked, but out of habit he pushed softly on the wood of the door to make sure. And with a creak, the door swung open a few inches and a rush of dry air blew past his face. Link jumped back and gaped at it. It shouldn't have been. The door was locked, had always been locked, would always be locked, and yet there he was, staring at an almost foot-wide gap of darkness between the door and its frame. He shook his head, trying to think. The door had been locked when he and Minuet came here last month, and Sage Fado hadn't been to the temple since then either. _So why is the door unlocked?_

It wasn't his business. The inner sanctum was the worry of a Sage, not a Sage's apprentice. He should just close the door again. He should close it and walk away. Close it and walk away. Definitely not open it wider and walk inside. Definitely not go inside. If only his feet would listen to what his head was telling them. Link took a step towards the door. And then another. One more and he could push past it. One more step and he would be inside the forbidden inner sanctum, see what none but the Sages had seen. One more...

A shrill scream echoed chillingly through the temple, and Link grabbed the door almost guiltily and slammed it shut. Another frightened scream tore through the semi-darkness, before even the echoes of the first had died, and Link whipped around and sprinted the length of the entry hall, pausing only to wrench the lantern pole out of its stand before tearing towards the darkened doorway from which the screams had come.

The blue lantern light played across the vine-covered stone walls of a tiny room off the entrance hall. The floor here was dirt, and bore only a few patches of weed-choked and overgrown grass. Link looked around in confusion for the source of the scream, but all was silent now.

"D-don't come in..." A choked sob rose from the far corner of the room, and Link hoisted the lantern high enough to illuminate the tear-streaked face of a very frightened Minuet, huddling against the cold stone as if afraid to be any nearer the center of the room. Link gaped at her. There was dirt smeared up the front of her robe, and a cut under one of those green eyes, as if she had fallen flat on her face.

"Minuet, what happened?" he gasped, beginning to walk towards her, but she shouted: "DON'T COME IN!!!" and huddled farther back into her corner, a look of terror on her face.

Link ignored her warning. "Minuet, you're hurt! Did you trip over something in the dark? Look, you're bleeding..." Minuet whimpered and buried her face in her hands; afraid to look at him. "Minuet, what's..."

Something huge and heavy seemed to vault out of the floor under Link's feet, and he felt something pound into his chest and send him flying backward through the doorway. He hit the ground with a thud, his head smacking into the stone pavement of the entryway with a sharp crack of pain. Violent whorls of color swam across his vision, and distantly he could hear Minuet screaming again. _She's in trouble!_ _Get up, come on_...

Painfully, Link pushed himself into a sitting position, his head spinning and the world swimming in and out of focus as he fought to stay conscious. Stronger than ever were those eyes drilling into the back of his head, the silent presence, but suddenly it seemed… accusing, as if ashamed that he couldn't even shrug off a little fall in order to help Minuet. _Get up, get up!_ He struggled to his feet, willing himself not to sway and fall, and stared into the doorway where Minuet was trapped. The lantern had been smashed to bits against the ground when Link fell, and the little blue fairy now buzzed energetically around the room, enjoying its newfound freedom. In its glow the boy could make out Minuet still huddled against the far wall, and between her and the door...

A huge plant, lying hidden before in the tall grass, now towered as tall as Link in the center of the room. Supported by a twisting, vine-like stem, its head was a massive bulbous pod, split down the middle by a scarlet mouth lined with razor-sharp thorns for teeth, drooling sap between its woody lips. It lurched its creeper body, snapping at the circling fairy. More painful than a stinging nettle was Boko Baba, the man eating plant.

"Minuet, don't move!" Link shouted, and Minuet whimpered again.

"I know! I k-know! What do I d-do?!"

Link cast around frantically for some way to distract the killer weed so that Minuet could make a run for the door. There, on the stone pavement at his feet lay the lantern pole, the heavy lantern still fixed to its end, glass shattered and frame bent. "I've got an idea!" he shouted, grasping the long brass pole in his left hand and dragging it upright. "When the time comes, run!"

"How w-will I know w-when to run?" Minuet sobbed frantically, and a look of steel crept into Link's blue eyes.

"You'll know." Link stepped slowly through the doorway, lantern pole in hand, and the Boko Baba's ugly head whipped around to face him. He envisioned the hero carved into the temple door, tried to tell himself he held not a lantern but a sword. "That's it, come get me." The plant's fanged pod thrust forward and Link swung the lantern pole like he imagined one would swing a blade. With a smash of breaking glass and crumpling metal, the lantern collided with the Boko Baba's woody head, and Minuet shot forward, sprinting past both the stunned plant and Link in her hurry to reach the door. Link swung the lantern again, bashing the plant on the head and feeling the shock of impact travel up his arms. Again he hit it. Again. Again! AGAIN!!!

"LINK!" Minuet grasped his arm to stop him from swinging the lantern, and he looked into her tear-streaked face. "Link, you can stop. It's dead."

Breathing hard, Link stared down at the crushed remains of the Boko Baba, oozing sticky sap and already beginning to smell of decay. "It's dead." he repeated slowly. "And I killed it." A small grin crossed his face. "With a lantern."

"With a lantern," Minuet agreed, smiling slightly as she wiped the tears from her face. "That was really brave..."

Link nodded. "Are you alright? Did it hurt you?"

Minuet touched the cut on her cheek. "It just knocked me down. Are _you_ hurt?"

Link winced as he was reminded of the pain in the back of his skull. "Truthfully, my head really hurts right now."

Minuet smiled sympathetically. "Let's go home then. I've had just about enough of my apprentice duties for one day. We can finish up tomorrow when it's light out. Besides, someone has to tell Sage Fado we have a Boko Baba infestation."

The fairy long gone, they made their way back to the towering stone doorway in the dark. Minuet grasped the carved stone door handles and pulled with all her might, thrusting all her slight weight into dragging the doors open. After a moment, she paused, panting, and looked up at Link, but in the darkness he couldn't make out her expression. "What's wrong?" he asked, and she whimpered slightly.

"It's... it's locked! We're locked inside the forest temple!"

_____________________________________________________________

**Thoughts from the author:**

Well here it is, the first chapter of Shadowsong. I'm excited to finally get my fan-novel off the ground! This by no means my first fanfic, but it _is_ the first one that I'm actually taking seriously, so feedback would be appreciated.

The context of this story is a bit fuzzy; it occurs sometime between Ocarina of Time and Twilight Princess, and the Link we see here is a new character, not the Link of any previous game. Going into this I wanted to create a brand-new Zelda storyline, with all the adventurous feel of the Nintendo games. A lot of place and character names have been recycled, but Hyrule has changed a bit and there will be a lot of new places to explore and people to meet as well.

There are three main characters. Link was the first. In the next chapter we meet the second; a Gerudo boy who bears the triforce of Power.


	2. Forest: Power

**The Legend of Zelda: Shadowsong  
Book One - Forest**

**Chapter Two - Power**

_Floating. Floating in a void, without a face, without a name. Who am I? Ganondorf. My name… is Ganondorf._

A blade, sweeping through the darkness. A silver line of light slashing in front of his vision as the blade pierced his chest. Pain, pain beyond imagining, pain beyond all mortal comprehension. Death.

_Floating. Floating in a void, without a face, without a name. Who am I? Ganondorf. My name… is Ganondorf._

A blade, sweeping through the darkness. A silver line of light slashing in front of his vision as the blade pierced his chest. Pain, pain beyond imagining, pain beyond all mortal comprehension. Death.

_Floating._

Stop it, he wanted to scream. Over and over again the shining sword struck him down; over and over again he saw the final second of his life go flashing before his eyes. Why wouldn't it stop!? WHY WOULDN'T IT STOP!?

_Floating._ Blade. Pain. Death.

STOP IT! PLEASE, I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!

_Floating._ Blade. Pain. Death.

STOP IT!

_Floating._ Blade. Pain. Death.

IT HAS TO END! IT HAS TO END!!

"IT HAS TO END!!" With a frantic, pain-stricken scream, the dreamer sat bolt upright, his fists clenching the covers of his bed until the knuckles turned white with strain. His shoulders heaving from half-hyperventilation, his eyes darted around in panic. Nothing but the dim semi-darkness of early morning met his gaze. He sat panting on a rush-woven sleeping mat, which lay in the center of a large round tent of elaborately embroidered red and gold fabric, rising to a peak above his head. A shaft of grayish pre-dawn light spilled from the tiny gap beneath a tent-flap leading outside, making a pool of shallow illumination on the exotic, gold tasseled carpets that swept across the floor. A few red-velvet cushions along one textile woven wall bore upon them a pile of neatly folded clothes and an ornately wrought spear. The dreamer shook his head and tried to slow his breathing. Nothing was here, no gleaming blade, no pain.

Getting out of bed, he stood before the full-length mirror of burnished brass propped erect near the tent-flap. In the faint light he could barely make out his own reflection, but squinted through the darkness in order to see, to prove to himself that it was _him_, and not some pain wrought ghost-shadow from his dream. He was six feet tall and about eighteen summers in age, with broad shoulders and a slim, muscular frame beneath skin the color of copper. Fiery red hair cut to the nape of his neck, rounded ears, and a large ruby _bindi_ worked into a gold setting in the middle of his forehead marked him as a member of the Gerudo Thieves. His features were sharp; high cheekbones and a long, beak-like nose between eyes as red as garnets. A handsome face, but he winced as he looked at it. Several shallow scratches across his cheeks bled ribbons of scarlet, and looking down he could see blood on his hands, no doubt from involuntarily clawing at his face to get away from the pain of his nightmares. There had to be a way to stop these dreams, before he ended up killing himself.

A pitcher of water and a glazed ceramic basin by the bed allowed him to wash the blood away, and he gulped the water down thirstily afterwards: never mind the blood, since it was his to begin with anyway. He had grown up in the Great Desert, where the sun's blazing heat baked eternal thirst into one's very bones, and wasting water was a crime punishable by death. Of course, no one would actually punish you, but death by dehydration would leave you _begging_ for a quick and easy execution.

The line of light beneath the tent-flap was growing slowly but steadily brighter, and it occurred to the boy that the rest of the surrounding encampment must be waking up. Hurriedly, he grasped the neatly folded bundle of clothes and dressed. Coarse sand-colored breeches, boots made from black boar-skin leather, a light-fabric sleeveless white shirt covered in palely dyed patterns of red and blue, and a belt of silver set with gleaming amber stones. A short-sleeved black leather jacket bared his arms to reveal handfuls of heavy gold and silver bracelets, some set with gemstones to match his belt. One golden earring gleamed in his left ear, three more in his right. Standing before the mirror, the dreamer gave his reflection an approving grin. The elderly Gerudo always shot him reproachful looks behind his back for the way he dressed. The teenage girls adored him.

"Shirobi!" An impatient call sounded just outside the tent, slightly muffled by its thick fabric, and a moment later the tent-flap was thrust back, flooding the room with hazy golden dawn light. "The sun's already up; are you going to sleep the day away?" An attractive young Gerudo woman stood silhouetted in the tent's opening, slightly shorter than the boy, but with a mature look to her face that named her at least two years the elder.

The Gerudo boy, Shirobi, rolled his eyes and hissed exasperatedly through gritted teeth. "Fire of Din, don't just burst in like that, Merlay. Show some respect for your chief for once."

Merlay laughed and sat down abruptly on the carpets in front of him, crossing her legs in the Gerudo gesture of respectful submission to a superior. "Oh, I respect you as my chief, Shi. But I also disrespect you as my little brother." Having made her point, she stood, pausing at the tent-flap on the point of leaving as Shirobi tried to puzzle out what she had just said. Her shiny copper skin caught the morning light, slim and bare save for a strip of white, dye-patterned cloth wrapped around her generous chest and a pair of voluminous pale pink breeches, circled by a belt that matched her brother's. Copious gold and silver jewelry on her arms, wrists, and neck jangled slightly every time she moved, and her knee-length red hair shimmered alluringly in its pony-tail as the sunlight caught it. "Shirobi, are you alright? You're really pale."

Shirobi silently cursed his nightmare. At least the darkness of the tent had kept her from noticing the scratches on his face. "Too little sleep," he lied.

His sister shrugged. "Well, get over it. Anyhow, I just came to tell you that Byara's back. If you want to talk to her." A mischievous grin crossed her face. "Of course, if you're too busy catching up on your sleep…"

"Of course I want to talk to her!" Shirobi interrupted. "Tell her I'll meet her at breakfast." When Merlay didn't budge he snapped, "I'm your chief today, Merlay, not your brother."

Nodding slightly, Merlay murmured, "Sure, chief," and was out the tent-flap in a flash. Shirobi grinned faintly as she left. One of the advantages of being a chief was that you could boss your older sister around.

He bent and picked up the ornate spear still resting on its cushion: gold embossed and carved more opulently than any ordinary weapon, it was a symbol of who he was, what he was. The Gerudo were an amazonian tribe, a society entirely made up of women, forced to find husbands outside their own people in order to survive. But once every hundred years a male Gerudo was born, and that man was destined to be chief of the Gerudo Thieves. The hundred-year sons, they were called, and Shirobi was the latest. He hefted the spear in his right hand: today he would need every reminder of his authority. Today was the day either a treaty of alliance would be signed, or his people would be thrust into the midst of a violent and bloody war. Taking a deep breath, he thrust open the tent-flap and stepped out into the now dazzling early morning sunlight.

Before him stretched, not the vast searing wasteland of the Great Desert, but a grassy plain, sweeping across the horizon until it reached the distant shining marble walls of a beautiful spire-peaked palace. _These feeble water-wasters who called themselves the Hylians_, Shirobi thought, and then shook his head, trying to dislodge the old prejudices of his race. He had to cope with these strangers, had to learn their ways, or else he might just insult them by accident and start an all-out war.

"Chief!" Shirobi jerked his eyes away from the distant castle and gazed around at his own encampment. A cluster of six identical round red and gold tents stood in a half-moon formation, the opening of which faced towards the castle: a common Gerudo war tactic when camping across the battlefield from an enemy. Not that these peaceful, grassy plains were a battlefield, and the Hylians certainly weren't the enemy. Not yet. White pennants waved from the pointed tops of several tents, erected there because Shirobi's spy informed him that white was the Hylians' color of truce. In the center of camp, a huge metal cauldron boiled over a low fire, savory smells drifting from the bubbling golden broth within and making Shirobi's mouth water. Around the fire a group of three Gerudo Thieves lounged on embroidered red velvet carpets spread across the trampled grass, wicked spears in their hands or curved scimitars at their belts. One of them waved to him across the campsite and called out again. "Hey, Chief, food's ready! Are you going to eat, or just stare at the pretty castle?" The other two laughed appreciatively at her taunting.

Shirobi grinned and strode across the grass, leaning the ceremonial spear casually across his shoulder. Despite their teasing earlier, the women took on solemnly respectful expressions as he reached the disheveled carpets, and each assumed that submissive cross-legged position. Shirobi nodded at them and sat down, and grins broke out amongst the group, the women striking up their relaxed positions again. He looked around at the three women. They were all tall, with the tell-tale red hair, dark skin, and beak-like noses of the Gerudo, and ranged in age from sixteen to eighteen summers. He could hear whispered words and juvenile giggles as they talked excitedly to one another. Looking back, he probably should have chosen older, more experienced women for his embassy, but there was still the chance this day could end in a battle, and he needed the strongest warriors the Gerudo Thieves had to offer. Not to mention, these women were his closest friends, and he trusted them completely to guard his back.

The girl on his left -sixteen, and so still only a girl- nudged him in the ribs with an attractive, copper-skinned elbow and handed him a wooden bowl. Shirobi dunked it into the steaming cauldron before leaning back casually to eat. He dipped his fingers into the hot broth and fished out a shred of meat. The rations brought with them from the desert, salted boar-meat mostly, had long since been eaten, and for the last few weeks the cookpot had contained whatever they had been able to hunt the day before: cuccos; field rats; giant, feathered Kargoroc birds; and strange, horse-like, spotted animals which the Hylians called "cows," and which the girls took great pleasure in stealing from villages at night. These, combined with whatever roots and wild herbs they could dig out of the fertile dirt, made eating each meal a bit of an adventure, because you never knew how something would taste until you bit into it. For instance, whether it would fill you up or make you violently sick. To Shirobi's relief today's meat was Kargoroc, which was tough and hard to chew but tasted vaguely like cucco.

The girl, named Aer, nudged him again. "Today's the day, isn't it, Chief? The day our embassy meets with the Hylian king?" Her own bowl of food lay untouched on the carpet beside her. The youngest woman in the embassy, she was still prone to apprehension before battle and was most likely too nervous to eat.

Next to her Rhea, a woman of seventeen summers, smiled and adjusted her thin wire spectacles. "You sound like a nervous child, Aer. The Hylians aren't going to sprout horns and attack you."

"Yeah, they won't bother sprouting horns first!" the woman on Shirobi's right side teased, the same who had taunted him earlier.

"Be quiet, Lysper!" Rhea snapped. "No one thinks you're funny!" The joker, Lysper, went back to eating her meat, but a triumphant smirk was still etched across her face. Rhea turned back to Aer. "There's nothing to be afraid of. The Hylians here are just like the _rhenha_ back home." _Rhenha_ was the Gerudo word for husband, or more accurately, "daughter-giver." A _rhenha_ was a Hylian man who, consentingly or against his will, took part in a sort of marriage ceremony with a Gerudo woman. The ceremony was simple: a few traditional words spoken in front of an audience of at least one other Gerudo. Afterwards the man was kept out of sight, his only purpose being to grant his wife as many daughters as possible before he died. Hylians being as weak as they were, most _Rhenha_ didn't last more than a few years. Every Gerudo Thief, Shirobi included, had a _Rhenha_ for a father: men who had wandered too far into the great desert and been captured, or else kidnapped from the villages nearest the desert border. Most died before their children ever learned to walk.

"Hey, Chief," Rhea began, glancing up from reassuring Aer, "What's that on your face?"

Shirobi instinctively clapped a hand to the scratches on his cheek. _Fire of Din, she noticed!_ "Dirt." he lied smoothly.

"Looks like blood." Lysper stated bluntly, and Shirobi shot her a nasty look.

"Its dirt," he persisted, and proceeded to change the subject. "So, Merlay said Byara came back this morning."

Aer nodded excitedly, her ruby-red twin ponytails bobbing and catching the morning sunlight. "She did! I was on sentry duty this morning and I saw her come into camp. She was so tired she went straight to her tent and collapsed onto the sleeping mat, without even getting undressed. I think Merlay went to wake her up just now."

Shirobi felt a sudden stab of guilt at having sent his sister to wake Byara, but he forced it down. Sometimes he had to decide between what was best for his friends and what was best for his tribe. Today his tribe took priority. Byara was his spy among the Hylians, and he needed all the information she could give him if today's treaty was to come about without bloodshed. Lysper shot a grin at him over the lip of her bowl. "Did you see her disguise, Chief? The Hylians sure must be thick not to notice _she_ was a spy."

"I thought her disguise was really good," Aer confessed quietly, a blush rising in her face. "When she first walked into camp I took her for a Hylian…" She looked up to see Lysper rolling her eyes in disgust, and added defensively, "It was dark out!"

"Oh, would you leave her alone!" Rhea reprimanded when the other woman continued to smirk.

Rhea was glaring daggers at Lysper, and Shirobi decided to break things up before the two of them became violent. Rhea had a sweet nature and naturally wanted to defend anyone who was being picked on, whereas Lysper had a sarcastic nature and naturally picked on people. It made for a lot of arguments. Shirobi found himself fervently wishing Merlay was around: his sister was good at solving disagreements. _But if I can't learn to settle things between my own friends, how am I ever going to settle them between the Gerudo and Hyrule?_ "That's enough, you two." he said aloud, trying to adopt his most authoritative voice. "Lysper, stop bothering Aer. Rhea, stop yelling at Lysper. Aer's old enough to defend herself." Far from pacifying the two women, his statement only made them glare more fiercely at one another, and Aer hid her head in her hands, her blush deepening. _Fire of Din, but I'm really bad at this,_ Shirobi thought glumly.

"Well, well, Shi. You finally got out of bed." Shirobi didn't need to turn around to know who had just walked up behind him; his sister was the only one who called him Shi. Grinning, Merlay walked around the group and dropped down with a muffled thump on the carpets beside Rhea: directly across from Shirobi so that only her head and coppery bare shoulders were visible to him above the steaming cookpot. She looked around at the taut faces of the embassy: Shirobi with his exasperated frown, Aer with her miserable blush, and Rhea and Lysper glaring at each other so fiercely one half expected the air between them to burst into flame. "Wow, looks like we're having rat again today."

Lysper broke her death-gaze to chuckle appreciatively at the joke, and a moment later Rhea was laughing as well. Aer raised her head to grin enthusiastically, with a quick, "Good one, Merlay." The fight was over, just like that. Shirobi felt crestfallen that he hadn't been able to fix things without Merlay's help. He was beginning to wonder if Merlay should be leading this embassy, and Irikokeht the Shadow take custom to the grave, as the saying went.

Another woman sat down between Merlay and Lysper, and the laughter died abruptly as every eye focused on the newcomer. Shirobi stared as well. The woman was about seventeen, and she wore a simple gray dress, cut in the Hylian fashion and embroidered along the circular collar with tiny blue flowers. Her long cloak was of thin white fabric, and its hood drooped well over her eyes so that only the base of her delicately pointed chin was visible, and that in deep shadow. Rhea let out a hiss of breath. "Byara?"

Byara the spy tossed back her hood and smiled meekly, assuming the respectful cross-legged position as her eyes met Shirobi's. The boy found himself gripping the haft of his ceremonial spear so tightly the ornate carvings felt as if they were being pressed into his skin. For a moment, Byara had looked like a Hylian. He relaxed his grasp and grinned at her. "Byara, your disguise is amazing."

"I'm sorry, Chief." Byara murmured apologetically. "I should have taken the time to change clothing, but I didn't want to keep you waiting." Byara tended to take ceremony a little too far sometimes, but there was a reason she had been chosen as a spy. The woman resembled her r_henha_ father more strongly than most Gerudo, and her appearance helped her blend in with the Hylians- so long as no one looked at her too closely. She was short for a Gerudo, and the red of her long hair was so dark as to be almost brown. Her skin was darkened by the desert sun, but still a lighter copper color than was normal, and the large pale oval of skin between her amber eyes where her traditional _bindi _gem would normally rest if not for the disguise betrayed her as being naturally fair-skinned. With the hood of her cloak concealing her prominent beak-like nose, she could have passed for a young Hylian woman.

"She's not so impressive," Lysper muttered. "My half-blind aunt wouldn't be fooled by that disguise."

"You're just jealous because the Chief didn't pick _you_ to be the spy." Aer announced ardently.

"Quiet, both of you!" Shirobi ordered, setting his empty food bowl on the carpets beside him and looking Byara in the eye. "Byara, what have you found out?"

The spy nodded slightly and began. "As you ordered, Chief, I've spent the last three days in the town surrounding Hyrule Castle, gathering information. The women I spoke with in the Castle Town marketplace told me the latest rumors."

"And?"

"And it isn't good, Chief. The Hylians have been in a panic ever since we came in sight of the castle walls. They seem to think we're here to kill them all."

Lysper laughed. "Oh, right. The six of us are going to kill an entire town full of people. These water-wasters are Din-forsaken idiots!"

"'These water-wasters' have an army of palace guards ready to slit our throats if we try it." Byara said darkly. "They aren't very bright, but they outnumber us a hundred to one."

Shirobi grimaced. "We're an embassy of peace, for Din's sake! The king knows we're here to sign a treaty; how can they still not trust us?"

"You know what they call us?" Byara cut in. "The Gerudo _savages_. Like we're uncultured animals. But they're the ones who are savage. Yesterday morning I was pretending to take a walk around the castle, you know, like Hylian girls do, so I could count the guards at each entrance. One of them stopped me and tried to steal a kiss. He was too ugly to be a _rhenha_, so I told him to go away, but he kept following me and calling out awful things."

Rhea shook her head sadly, and Aer looked shocked. "What did you do, Byara?"

"I flipped him over my shoulder, stole his sword, and ran him through with it." the spy said simply. "He won't be fit to chase any more women around for quite some time."

"If all men are like that, then the Gerudo are better off without them," Lysper scoffed. "No offense, Chief."

Shirobi ignored her. "Did you manage to get inside Hyrule Castle? If you found out anything personal about the nobles or the royal family, anything we can use to our advantage…"

Byara gave him a mournful look. "I got inside, all right. And be careful in there, Chief. All the nobles seem to talk about is how to betray us and manipulate the treaty for their own benefit."

Far away across the plains a bell tolled the hour in one of Hyrule castle's many towers. Six tones, for six-o-clock in the morning. Shirobi stood. "That's enough for now, Byara; you can tell me the rest on the way to the castle." He looked around to see the other women also standing, a look of readiness to their bearings as they glanced as one toward the distant Hyrule Castle. "Today's the day," he announced as Byara stood as well. "The day we either save our race or doom it to war."

"Well put Shi." Merlay mocked.

_________________________________________

**Thoughts from the author:**

Have mercy on the Gerudo Embassy; this was my first time writing for these girls and I was still feeling out their personalities. As I get a better grasp on the characters in later chapters, the writing for them gets better.

Shirobi Rahad is Ganondorf reincarnated. _Knows_ he's Ganondorf reincarnated. Is perfectly okay with being Ganondorf reincarnated. The whole thing is just a part of the Gerudo culture. He's also a bit of an angsty Mary Sue right now, but I'm trying to fix that. (I started by shortening the paragraph that _stops the narrative to describe his outfit_. My gosh Shi, I know you're a borderline Sue but could you be less blatant about it?)

In the next chapter we meet our third main character, a certain Hylian princess...


	3. Forest: Wisdom

**The Legend of Zelda: Shadowsong  
Book One - Forest**

**Chapter Three - Wisdom **

The solemn tolling of the bells in Hyrule Castle's highest tower echoed hollowly through the hallways of the otherwise silent citadel. Through high arched stained-glass windows the early morning sun slanted lazily to spill into a pool of light against the marble-tiled floor, broken into a million sparkling fragments of color by the towering fanciful scenes depicted in gem-like colored glass. Beautifully woven tapestries and carpets of intricate design broke the monotony of regal white marble, and in swooping nooks carved here and there into the walls, vases of elaborately painted porcelain rested on delicate pedestals.

The tower bells doled out their sixth and final tone, and as the echoes of it at last faded, an eerie silence settled over the empty halls. Distantly, ever so distantly, a sound arose; the slightest shuffle of footsteps, a rustling of silk as the hem of a dress brushed against the marble tiles with each dainty step. The shaft of painted sunlight was broken as a figure passed beneath it and paused, staring up at the image so beautifully depicted in the window: a portrait of a golden-haired Hylian woman with soft violet eyes and a pearly-blue ocarina pressed to her elegant lips. The observer beneath the windowpane sighed, golden embroidery worked lavishly into the pearl-white and violet silk of her dress catching the many colored light as her shoulders rose and fell softly beneath it. A dress fit for a princess, and not so different from that the glass woman wore. Shaking her head, the viewer turned away and began her walk down the hallway once more. In the moment before the last of the tinted light slipped from her face, she was the very image of the woman in the window: her grandmother, the princess Zelda.

And then the magical light was gone, and the girl walked in the clean white luminosity of the castle hallway, all semblance to the long-dead queen of Hyrule lost. The girl shared her grandmother's long golden hair, tell-tale pointed Hylian ears, and slanted violet eyes, but there the resemblance not only stopped but came to a screeching halt. She was about fourteen, and had the misfortune of some Hylian girls to have hit puberty late and awkwardly. The young princess was flat-chested and thin as a stick, cursed with the kind of stretched-out, self-conscious height that came of unexpectedly growing three inches overnight, and consequently her boney arms and legs appeared too long for her body. Her pale cheeks were covered in a heavy dusting of auburn freckles: a face that could never be called pretty, but on a boy might be referred to as handsome. When she finally grew past her teen years the girl would be as beautiful as her grandmother, but for now the overall effect was of a boy in a dress.

From the other end of the hallway, muffled voices rose from a set of towering oak-paneled doors that led to the castle throne-room, and the girl bit her lower lip nervously, exhaling through the tiny gap between her two front teeth. She could hear her father's voice: deep and rich and commanding, as befitted the king of Hyrule. It wasn't her father that made her nervous, but rather the fact that he was clearly speaking to the other Hylian nobility; sharp-faced lords and ladies with their noses in the air, always looking down at her with reproachful eyes for not looking the part of a princess and telling her to run along and play as if she were four years old. Surely she was afraid of them and not her own father. Her father who towered above her on his gilded throne, who wore a permanent frown as he grumbled about the obligations of running the kingdom, who was so wrapped up in those obligations that lately she only saw him once every few days. Surely she wasn't afraid of him. Surely.

Realizing she was biting her lip, the girl forced herself to stop. Impa, her nursemaid, always said it was an improper habit for a princess. _"It's your tell, Zelda." the tall, steely gray-haired woman had explained for what must have been the thousandth time. Impa had a muscular frame, and wore a simple white dress embroidered with a blue eye-like symbol across the chest. For some reason the girl had always imagined her ancient nursemaid was better suited for gleaming armor. "You can't afford to have a tell when you become queen, dear. Dealing with foreign nobility is like playing Biggoron's Bluff: it's best to be stoic. You can't start biting your lip and letting them know you're nervous, or you'll have them walking all over you."_

Biggoron's Bluff was a simple card game that Impa and the young Zelda often played together; the object of which was to lay cards facedown in ascending order until one player emptied their hand. Of course you had to lay a card down every turn, so often the cards you put on the pile were not what you claimed them to be. The whole point was to lie your way to an empty hand without being called on your bluffs. Hence the name: "Biggoron's Bluff." Impa, who always had a wealth of stories to tell, claimed the name came from an old tale about a boy whose father was dying of a terrible sickness. One day, Irikokeht the Shadow came to collect the man's soul. The boy, as Impa told it, knew he could never best Irikokeht in a fight, but he drew his father's old sword from its position over the fireplace and faced the Shadow nonetheless. The sword was a large and heavy weapon called the giant's knife, and it was also very brittle and would break on the first blow, but the boy told Irikokeht it was a legendary indestructible blade known as the Biggoron Sword. Irikokeht believed the boy's bluff and left without the soul he had come to steal, and so the old man got well and lived for many more years.

Zelda smiled as she remembered Impa's firm voice telling the story: her nursemaid's tales always made her feel better. She had come to a stop in front of the heavy oak doors, and the droning voices from within were a low rumble just beneath the wood. The princess paused, her hand resting on the ornate golden door handle carved in the shape of a hawk with spread wings. She had only come here to peek in on her father. She certainly didn't care about whatever he and the Hylian nobles were discussing in such urgent tones. She was also lying to herself. Everyone in the castle seemed to be on edge lately, from the highest nobility to the lowliest stableboy, and for months the lords and ladies had been walking the halls in tight groups, talking to each other in hushed voices. Her father held these secretive councils almost every day now, and even Impa seemed to be in on things; doing all she could to keep Zelda busy and away from her father's meetings. Well today she had eluded Impa, and it would be the biggest bluff of all to say she hadn't done so to listen in on her father's conversation. Giving up her last pretense of ever having intended to open the doors, Zelda knelt down and pressed her head to the cold marble floor, closing one violet eye so that she could peer through the miniscule crack under the heavy wooden paneling. Only shadows met her gaze: a shifting pattern of light and dark that indicated movement beyond the door; someone's feet stirring as they sat in one of the many high-backed wooden chairs that Zelda knew must be grouped around the long ivory worked table before the throne. It didn't matter anyhow. The girl had seen enough of the throne room -and of the snobbish nobility- to last her ten lifetimes. What she cared about now was not sight, but sound.

There. A voice rose crystal clear and Zelda's pointed ears perked up, catlike, at the sound.

"Surely your Majesty does not intend to meet with these savages," an arrogant female voice droned, and a few murmurs of approval sounded from other nobles around the table. "Thieves such as the Gerudo, why, they would strip Hyrule Castle bare within an hour! We cannot simply invite them in!"

Zelda's heart leapt in her chest at the word "Gerudo." She had always adored Impa's tales of the dark and beautiful Gerudo Thieves, and as a child she had often envisioned herself as one of them, racing across the grassy castle courtyards as though they were desert sands. And now there was talk of Gerudo within the castle itself! Her excitement mounting, the princess listened with renewed intensity.

"It can't be helped," a man's voice gave reply. "After all, they have what we desire. The Great Desert is a treasure trove of wealth: gold and jewels and precious minerals just waiting to be mined."

Another woman's voice continued in agreement: "Have you seen how the savages dress? Heaping gold and jewels upon themselves as if they were worthless pretties." Listening in, Zelda gave a small smirk as she recognized the woman's voice: a vain and rather self-centered noblewoman who often wore so much jewelry she could barely move for the weight. She certainly had no room to talk about "worthless pretties."

"That's because to them, all their jewels _are_ worthless," the man responded, almost disbelievingly. "They have so much wealth they don't know what to do with it all."

"Still," the first speaker protested with a tone of contempt in her drawling voice, "Why your Majesty has to _meet_ with their chief, as if he were some foreign king! On all the maps, the Great Desert is part of Hyrule. It already belongs to us; why we cannot simply take it as ours…"

"No." came a deep bass voice, and Zelda found herself biting her lip again as the king of Hyrule spoke. "Our maps may claim we rule the Great Desert, but on any atlas drawn by a Gerudo mapmaker it appears as a sovereign nation. The Gerudo savages believe they are separate from Hyrule, and if we simply barge in and take their lands they will see it as an invasion."

"Fine, sign your Majesty's ridiculous treaty," the woman scoffed. "Let the savages play their little game. _But…_" And here her voice grew dangerously challenging. "What will your Majesty do if and when you and the Gerudo chief fail to come to an agreement?"

There was silence for a moment, and when Zelda's father spoke again it was with a touch of regret. "I never expect an agreement to be reached; we are too different from the Gerudo. What will happen then is what we knew would happen from the beginning. We take the savages' lands by force, and Hyrule will go to war."

Zelda gave a startled gasp and scrambled away from the door, her heart beating so wildly in her chest that she was sure her father and the nobility could hear it through the solid wood. There was a tinny taste in her mouth, and she realized she had bitten her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. _War?! But it can't be, not Hyrule!_ Hyrule, the peaceful kingdom she had grown up in, the kingdom she would one day rule, the magic land that Impa told her stories of. Hyrule was constant and unchanging; it _could not go to war!_ She suddenly knew what Impa and everyone else had been trying to keep secret from her.

The droning of voices beyond the towering doors brought Zelda back to herself, with the abrupt realization that she was missing out on the best bits of the conversation. Heart still drumming against her rib cage, the princess pressed her face once more to the crack below the door. The Hylian nobles were muttering uneasily to one another, but they fell silent again as another man -one who had not yet spoken- cleared his throat.

"If your Majesty would allow," he began, "Many of us have been discussing Hyrule's current… situation, and we believe we have discovered a better solution."

"Go on," the king replied, and Zelda silently mouthed "go on" as well, hope rising with a heat like summer sunlight in her chest.

"Well, as your Majesty knows, arranged marriages are quite common among those of nobility. Your Majesty's late wife, may she rest in peace, was a noblewoman married for political reasons, correct? We believe that Hyrule might profit from an arranged marriage between whatever passes for nobility among the savages, and the Hylian royal family."

Murmurs of appreciation rose from among the other nobles, and the arrogant-voiced woman spoke up. "Lord Samuel has a good plan indeed, if I may say so, your Majesty, and one you should consider." From the barely concealed pleasure in her voice, Zelda guessed she had known about the man's suggestion from the beginning, and all her earlier whining had been part of a clever plan to allow an opening for the nobleman to slip it in. "With Hyrule's royal family united with the Gerudo, the Great Desert would be ours by right, and we could mine it freely for every last shred of wealth it possesses!" She laughed cruelly. "Those thieving savages will think _they_ have the upper hand, when really they're the same off as they were before, while we get everything we wanted!"

"A good plan," Zelda's father agreed in his deep rumbling voice, "But it sounds as though you expect me to marry a Gerudo."

The sunlight heat in Zelda's chest spread to every inch of her skin, from her fingertips to her toes, until she felt she must be glowing with it. If her father accepted this plan, which she had to admit was a very good one, one of those beautiful exotic Gerudo women would be her _mother_! She wanted to laugh aloud with sheer joy. Only a moment ago Hyrule was on the brink of war, and now everything was perfect and she was going to have a beautiful new mother.

"Oh, no, your Majesty!" Lord Samuel was saying, shocked. "Obviously not you yourself! After all, there is the second part of the plan. Such a marriage would put a Gerudo savage in line for the throne of Hyrule. Once we have a firm hold on the Great Desert, whoever marries into the Gerudo would have to be disowned from the royal family and forever banished."

"And who do you propose we banish?" the king asked softly. This time it was his voice that had taken on a dangerous edge.

"Well," Lord Samuel replied, giving a well-rehearsed pause as if the thought had never crossed his mind before. Which of course it must have, if he had so thoroughly considered every other aspect of his plan. "The current chief of the Gerudo is one of the few males that are born into their tribe every year or so…" It was every hundred years, according to Impa's stories, but Zelda was focused too intently on the man's hesitant voice to be annoyed by such a minor detail. "…and I gather he's at a rather young age. We thought perhaps your daughter, the princess Zelda."

"_Princess Griselda de'Hyrule_, what _do_ you think you're _doing_!?!" Zelda's heart jumped into her throat as a calloused hand suddenly grasped her by the pointed ear and violently yanked her to her feet. Towering over the young princess, Impa's harsh, age-lined face was taut with disapproval, a steely sharpness to her red-violet eyes. "A princess does not sprawl herself across the floor like some peasant boy peeking under doorways!"

"I wasn't peeking…" Zelda murmured, shifting her weight guiltily and rubbing at her sore ear. "I tripped and fell."

Impa glared at her. "Don't give me that, dearie. The last time I saw you trip over anything was when you were first learning to walk. Do I want to know what you were doing wandering the corridors when you should have been having your music lessons?"

"I… forgot about my lessons," Zelda lied.

"Don't bite your lip, dear. It's what makes you so terrible at Biggoron's Bluff."

With an immense effort, Zelda released her lower lip from its death grip before the pressure she was exerting on it reached the point of pain, and ran her tongue surreptitiously over her teeth, hoping she wasn't still bleeding. Impa was always scolding her for not being stoic: well, when it really mattered the old woman had no idea how stoic she could be. Thoughts were running with lightning speed through her mind, and the girl could feel her boney knees trembling beneath her richly embroidered skirts. She itched to bite down on her lip; bite so hard that all she could focus on was the pain of it and thus forget the horrible things she had just overheard. _My father is going to disown me. I'm going to be banished from Hyrule, and I'll never become queen. I'm going to live the rest of my life in the Great Desert, far away from everyone and everything I've ever known. _And the thought, the terrible, horrible thought came that she didn't care whether she ever became queen, or that she would never see the palace again. _Because my father is going to disown me. My father… doesn't… love me…_

"Zelda, dearie?" Impa's steely expression had softened slightly, concern in those harsh eyes, and Zelda realized that the stoic face she prided herself on was rapidly dissolving. She was _not_ going to cry, she was _not_ going to cry…

She was not going to cry. Which seemed strange considering the near-panic she had felt a moment before. "I'm sorry, Impa," the girl said aloud, and her voice was strong and confident, the voice of a queen who would one day lead Hyrule. "A princess shouldn't shirk her duties." Her nursemaid seemed somewhat taken aback by this sudden change of mood, but Zelda put on her most disarming, boyish grin, and finally Impa sighed.

"Dear, I've been nursemaid to the royal family for as long as there's _been_ a royal family, and I still don't understand children. Well then, no need to dawdle around in the corridors; you've got lessons."

The gray-haired woman started off down the corridor, her footsteps echoing against the cold white marble, and a moment later Zelda followed, striding regally and for all the world as if she were already queen. Behind that smile her thoughts were racing, but they had a purpose now, cold and logical and running inexorably onward through her mind. There was still a chance that her father could come to an agreement with the Gerudo embassy, and if not… Well, if she was going to be banished it would be on _her_ terms. Her mind was working feverishly, more so than it ever had in her life, and sooner or later she would come up with a plan.

For some reason, the back of her right hand was prickling.

____________________________________________________________

**Thoughts from the author:**

It's important to know who to boo at. ;) The Hylian nobility will serve as our stand-in villains until the big bad shows up.

That just about rounds up our main cast. The story will mostly be told from the point of view of these three characters, occasionally switching to a minor character for some variation. I find myself writing differently depending on which character's eyes I'm looking through. When I write for Link, the narrative focuses on the action. For Shirobi, the narrative is all about the relationships between the characters and the cultural tensions therein. For Zelda, it's all broken down and carefully analyzed; she's always thinking.

The next chapter features a violin-playing forest sage and a magic bag that never runs out of room, and Shirobi gets a lesson in needlessly complicated Hylian politics.


	4. Forest: Custom

**The Legend of Zelda: Shadowsong  
Book One - Forest**

**Chapter Four - Custom**

The sun rose hesitantly over Kokiri Forest; a pale sphere of light casting shafts of hazy glow across the verdant tops of the ancient, hundred-year-old trees. Morning was slow in coming here. Sparkling motes of stray magic wafted from the deep green shadows and danced across stray pools of morn-light that had found their way through the thick canopy above. And along the sun and shadow dappled forest path, a stray blue forest-fairy sped, its gauzy wings whirring furiously.

The path wound lazily through the trees in great slow loops, here meandering around a huge, multi-ringed stump, there dipping into a hollow where an old wooden bridge arched over the creek below. Link had built the bridge one summer, tired of having to wade across the water, and it still held up strong despite several years of weathering by sun, wind, and rain. The little fairy flitted across, paying no heed to the happy babble of the creek beneath as it tumbled over its water-smoothed stones. Just ahead, the dappled half-light of the forest at early morning gave way to a misty radiance that spilled through the encroaching tree trunks like white gold. Here the trees spread to either side as if the goddess Forore had reached down and parted the forest like a curtain.

In the center of that wide sweep of clearing, serene and unadorned in the morning sunlight, rested Ordon Village.

Ordon was nothing to look at: a few low, thatch-roofed wooden hovels huddled together along well-worn dirt paths through a field of emerald grass, dotted with purple-ish heather and sweetly scented white flowers. The villagers called them Ordon's Bells, because their little white heads hung heavily on their stems like clarions in a belfry. Several of the houses had front steps of wood or stone, but only one had a porch. The tiny one-room hut closest to the treeline, and thus farther from the other houses, was by far the simplest of them all. Sage Fado's hut was overgrown with vines and moss flourished in the thatch, but his wooden porch was long and wide enough for every child in the village to gather upon it and hear him tell his stories.

In the early morning no children were yet awake, but Fado sat out on his porch anyhow, swaying gently back and forth on his creaking wooden rocker, a violin pressed to his chin with the precise delicacy of a virtuoso. Its music was smooth and melodic; the kind of sound that, had it been a scent, would smell of pine. The ancient sage smiled quietly as he played, the wrinkles of his aged face creasing deeply from a lifetime of laughter. Fado was old and bent nearly double with the weight of the years. Although he was mostly bald, what little hair the old man had was wispy and white like cloud. He could remember being young, a long time ago, and recalled that it was much more fun to be a child, but he didn't mind growing old. All it really meant was that you had less hair and more tales to tell.

He also didn't mind that no one in Ordon had yet awoken to hear him play. In the Kokiri Forest, there was always an audience. From the shadows of the trees at the clearing's edge, the invisible eyes of the Kokiri spirits watched in silent bliss.

But there was someone else watching from the trees today. Glowing palely, the tiny blue fairy reached the forest's end and fluttered into the clearing. It seemed to perk up at the sound of Fado's violin and flew over to where he sat, wings quivering as it alighted on the very tip of his bow.

Fado's hand stilled, and he removed the instrument gently from the hollow beneath his chin, and with the utmost care set it aside on the wooden porch's smooth grain. All the time he held his bow perfectly still so as not to disturb the fairy, and when he turned back it was still perched there.

"Hello, Imi." said Fado.

"Hello, Fado." the fairy responded in a sweet chime that seemed to bypass his pointed ears and settle directly into his mind. "That's a pretty song you're playing. What's it called?"

Fado smiled at her. Nimirae, or as he called her, Imi, was a young, somewhat flighty little fairy. She had a short attention span, and tended to be distracted by beautiful things, but he loved her like a daughter. "The Wind God's Aria. I wrote it myself."

"I like it," the fairy replied. "It's pretty." Happily humming the Aria to herself, she fluttered her wings a few times and began to flit away.

"Imi," Fado called after her, "Don't go yet. Do you remember what I asked you to do last night?"

Imi paused, her glow flickering slightly as she thought. "You asked me to… Asked me to…"

"To go with Lincoln Shepherd and Minuet Weaver," Fado provided helpfully, recalling how hard it was for Imi to remember things. "And to keep an eye on them for me. The same thing I tell you every time they visit the temple."

"I knew that," the fairy said quickly. "That's what I did. I went with them in their lantern. I was a good light. A pretty light."

"I assume they stayed the night in the temple then?" the Sage asked. "Didn't want to walk home in the dark, I suppose. Did you come to tell me they were on their way back?"

"OH!" Imi gave a start and began zooming around in frantic circles. "Oh, oh, oh, I have to tell you something important!!! I forgot, I forgot! Why did I forget!?! Oh, oh, oh, Fado!!!"

"Nimirae!" Fado snapped, reaching out a hand and plucking the distraught fairy out of the air by her wings. She sat, quivering, in his palm. "Imi," he repeated, trying to make his voice sound soothing, "What's wrong? Did something bad happen at the temple?"

"A Boko Baba! There was a Boko Baba in the temple, and Minuet was screaming and Link hit his head so hard and then the lantern broke and… Oh, oh, oh, why did I forget!?!" She dissolved into incoherent sobbing.

_A Boko Baba? In the sacred temple!?! _Fado shook his head in disbelief. The forest temple was a safe place, as long as you stayed out of the inner sanctum. What kind of evil could have entered that would let a Boko Baba inside? And then another terrible thought rose: a fully grown Boko Baba could rip a person apart. "The children!" he prompted fearfully. "What happened to them, where are they now?"

"Th-the t-temple…" Imi answered, still crying. "They tried to leave but the d-door was l-lo-locked…"

Alive, then. And, if they stayed away from the killer plant, perfectly safe. Boko Baba were deadly, but they were also rooted securely to the ground. Fado let loose a sigh of relief. "Calm down now, Imi. They'll be alright."

"It's all my fault," the fairy moaned. "I was coming to tell you, but I got distracted and forgot."

"Nothing's your fault," the old man said soothingly. "Come here and sit on my shoulder, and I'll play that song you like." When Imi complied, he lifted the violin to his chin again and began to play. The Wind God's Aria drifted sweetly across the grass, in time with the swaying of the Ordon's Bells in the breeze. On Fado's shoulder, Imi began her happy humming again, completely forgetting the crisis a moment before. Fado felt calmer now as well. Once Imi was pacified, he would go and fetch the two sages-in-training from the temple. Only one thing was bothering him; a nagging doubt at the back of his mind.

For purposes of safety, the lock mechanism on the doors of the forest temple was a complex and elaborate contraption connecting the huge outer doors to that of the inner sanctum. When the inner sanctum was securely locked, the outer doors would open, but when a Sage entered the mysterious inner sanctum to pray to Forore, the huge double-doors would bolt themselves. The reason for this was obvious: to keep away the prying eyes of any curious apprentice who thought to follow Fado to the temple and catch a glimpse of its depths. Of course, it was also to keep in what was already there. There were… _things_ within the temple. Sacred things, holy things, but nevertheless a thousand times deadlier than a Boko Baba. And, as his bow moved smoothly across the strings, it occurred to Fado that if the outer doors of the temple were locked, then the inner sanctum had somehow been opened.

The violin struck a rather abrupt and jarring chord, and the old Sage put it down without finishing the song. "Come along, Imi," he murmured. "We're going to visit the temple now."

"Oh, good!" she answered happily.

*** * ***

The Gerudo embassy's encampment was quickly disassembled as the sun rose higher in the cloudless blue sky over Hyrule Field. From a low rise in the sweeping grass, Shirobi watched dispassionately, occasionally jabbing at the dirt with the point of his spear. From this vantage he could see the entire camp, or at least what remained of it. Most of the red and gold tents had been taken down and were lying in the grass, the tent poles tied together in tight bundles and the thick fabric wound around them. The embroidered carpets and cushions rested in haphazard piles next to each tent, along with any of the girls' personal belongings.

The Gerudo Thieves themselves were running back and forth amongst the piles, attending to last-minute details. Byara had changed into her more traditional Gerudo clothing: a loose white blouse with blue and red patterns embroidered across the chest and a long divided skirt of palest pink gossamer over garnet-red breeches. The Gerudo tribe had always been attracted to bright colors. She was rolling up one of the carpets that had covered the floor of her tent, every movement causing a tinkle of metal from the thin gold chains swinging from the elaborate bun in her hair. Aer ran across camp, shouting loudly that whoever had borrowed her hairbrush should return it. On either hip, the curving blades of two scimitars glinted against the white of her skirt. Nearby, Lysper was sitting on top of her respective pile of cushions. She smirked slightly as she detangled her own short red hair with what was presumably Aer's hairbrush. Rhea was still packing her own tent into its tight roll, considerably behind schedule due to the fact that she had somehow been talked into packing up Lysper's tent as well.

Shirobi cast around inquiringly for his sister and found her walking towards him, betrayed by the jangling of her jewelry. Merlay had a small sack of faded brown leather slung across her back, its drawstrings pulled tight and looped around her wrist so she could carry it easily. "Hey, Shi," she called, and he waved her over with his spear. Merlay dipped down onto the trampled grass for a moment and crossed her legs respectfully before bobbing up like a cork and asking, "Are you all packed yet?"

"See for yourself," Shirobi answered, gesturing to his own tent-roll, which lay beside him in a neat bundle along with its carpets, cushions, and tall brass mirror.

Merlay nodded and swung the sack over her shoulder. "Well, I've got the Eternity Satchel, so help me put everything away." She gave the mouth of the sack a tug to loosen the drawstrings, revealing the bag to be empty save for a few stray rupees, Hyrule's main form of currency, gathered at the bottom. Shirobi stuck the point of his spear firmly in the ground and began gathering up cushions and carpets from the pile and stuffing them into Merlay's sack. Each item fit in easily, regardless of size, and all the time the leather never seemed to stretch or grow any fuller. Finally only the tent-roll remained, and the siblings managed to shove it inside by fitting the mouth of the bag around the bundle's end and then running its length, trailing the drawstrings behind them as though trying to drag the sack across the grass. Like some bizarre vanishing trick, the tent-roll disappeared into the depths of Merlay's magic bag.

Even having seen it done countless times before, Shirobi never ceased to be impressed by the Eternity Satchel. Merlay had bought the tattered bag from a wandering trader who had turned up mysteriously one night in the middle of the desert. No one else had dared go near the old witch-woman, peering suspiciously out at her from the doorways of their houses as she stood in the heart of Gerudo Valley and leaned arthritically on her crooked wooden staff. She peered right back, or at least seemed to, as only the glint of an eye could be seen behind the hood of the long, ragged purple cloak that covered her body. Few things could frighten a Gerudo Thief, but she managed to embody all of them. Shirobi could remember being very young, and watching as night turned to day and the desert sun grew high and burning. And he could remember the moment his sister, who stood beside him at the window, had finally gathered the courage to walk outside and ask her who she was.

The woman had turned her cloak-shadowed head and murmured, in a cackling rasp, "Tell me girl, would you like to purchase an item of great power?"

Merlay was grinning at him as she swung the Satchel back over her shoulder, still light as a feather, and Shirobi could bet that if he looked inside, the bag would still contain nothing more than a few rupees in the bottom. Come to think of it, none of the embassy knew where the items you put inside actually _went_. They simply disappeared and then somehow materialized again when you reached your hand inside to take them out. It was a remarkable and mystifying work of magic.

"If you don't mind helping me with the other tents," said Merlay in a tone that made her request sound more like an order, "It looks as though Rhea could use a hand." She began walking back through the camp, and her brother nodded and pulled his spear out of the dirt, resting it on his shoulder as he fell into step beside her. They paused by each girl's pile, filling the Eternity Satchel and moving on. The camp was no longer necessary; from now on the embassy would be housed in private suites within Hyrule Castle itself. Shirobi almost wished they were still sleeping on the ground. He may have hated the Hylians, but he wanted desperately to make a good impression on their king, since the embassy's behavior might well determine the future of his race. For the girls, staying in the palace would be… tempting. The Gerudo were thieves by nature, and in a castle there was so much to steal. He had made them all promise, no, _swear_, that they wouldn't cause trouble, be it violence, thievery, or taking _rhenha_. It was a promise he'd just have to hope they'd keep.

It was near eight by the time the last tent had been stowed away, as Shirobi knew by carefully counting the hollow tolling of Hyrule Castle's belfry. Negotiations for the treaty were to begin at nine, and the embassy wasted no time in beginning their short march towards the gates of Castle Town, laughing and talking as they went, Merlay carrying their entire camp in the sack across her back. Shirobi walked silently at the head of the group, listening to Byara as she instructed him on everything she knew from her short time as a spy. It was a lot to remember, since Byara's mind soaked up customs and traditions like the desert absorbed water.

"And don't sit down in front of the king unless he asks you too," Byara was saying as they walked, "Because in Hylian culture that's considered rude. Also, his proper title is 'Your Majesty,' and you have to call the nobles 'Lord' and 'Lady,' for men and women, respectively, and…"

"No, that won't work!" Merlay cut in. She was walking at his right side, and had been frowning slightly at Byara's recitation. "You have to consider politics, not just customs. If you give the king his full title he'll consider you his inferior. We want him to see you as an equal, like a king from another country."

"I _am_ a king from another country," Shirobi protested. "And for Din's sake, _slow down_ Byara! What is it you call the nobles again?"

"Lord and Lady," Byara repeated. "Don't give me that look, it's traditional, Merlay. And of course they in turn should call you by your full title…"

"We can't do that either," Merlay interrupted. "That makes you seem like you're vain and think you're superior to them. We're trying for equal status, Byara."

"I don't know about you, Merlay," Lysper piped up from behind them, "But I'm _far _superior to some water-wasting king."

"Don't call the Hylians water-wasters," Rhea chided. "They probably won't know what it means, but it's still not a nice thing to say."

"Fire of Din, it's always _nice_ with you…" Lysper snapped, and their voices faded into low arguing as Byara continued her monologue.

"If the king asks you to dine with him, you have to accept. The proper place to sit is near the head of the table, on the king's right side."

"Wait," Shirobi pleaded, getting slightly flustered. "Which end is the head of the table? And is it my right or his right?"

"His right. And the head of the table is whichever end the king sits at."

"But what if he hasn't sat…"

"I just told you, you can't sit down until he does, unless he asks you to, and he won't ask you to until he's already sitting down, so finding the head of the table shouldn't be a problem."

Shirobi stared at her for a moment in incomprehension. He hadn't understood a word of that. As the open drawbridge of Castle Town grew nearer, and Byara's speech got longer and more complicated, he was having some serious doubts about these peace talks. His head was beginning to hurt, and this looked like it was going to be a long day. It didn't help that he could still feel the sting of those scratches on his face.

__________________________________________________________

**Thoughts from the author:**

Nimirae has the attention span of a gnat. I secretly suspect this of Navi as well, since she can't seem to remember that she's already told you to "go to the castle!" about a hundred times. As for Sage Fado, I had to include _somebody _named Fado, as it seems to have become traditional for most Zelda titles since Ocarina.

That magic bag will fill in a lot of potential plot-holes later in the story. (But wait! How are they carrying all these items? Oh yeah, magic bag.)

Poor Shirobi. He really isn't any good at this political stuff.

The next chapter features more of princess Zelda, who has been coming up with a clever plan while we've been away.


	5. Forest: Trickery

**The Legend of Zelda: Shadowsong  
Book one - Forest**

**Chapter Five - Trickery **

_Plink, plink, plink, plink, plink._ Zelda's thin fingers hovered hesitantly over the strings of the smooth ivory harp in her lap. The princess's lesson-room was small, its walls the same marble white as the rest of the palace, and its floor covered in a deep, soft carpet of beige. A large fireplace paneled in delicately carved black granite dominated one wall, but the soot-blackened grating stood empty, the room lit instead by a soft white light that filtered through the frosted panes of a row of tall windows. Zelda sat sullenly on the satin cushions of a couch before the fireplace.

_Plink, plink, plink, plink, _plunk- no, wait, _plink._ Zelda winced at the missed note and bit down on her lip as her fingers sought to correct it. She _hated_ the harp; really _hated_ it. Even after several years of practicing every day, the strings still felt as though they were cutting into her fingers, and the detached plucking of the notes seemed a far cry from the soft strains of music she had once imagined being able to play.

_Plink, plink, plink, plink, plink._ Like a metronome, the clock above the mantle ticked incessantly on, in harsh syncopation with Zelda's stumbling scales. Eight-thirty. A princess's day began at five in the morning, with music lessons from six to nine, and language lessons soon after, followed by geography, history, and manners, the last of which consisted mainly of balancing books on one's head and determining which fork to use when eating at state dinners. "Early to bed, early to rise, makes a girl healthy, wealthy, and wise," Impa always insisted, but at the moment Zelda cared nothing for schedules. Each irritating click that sounded as the clock's hidden gears spun seemed to shave another second off of life as she knew it. How long before her father met with the Gerudo, a few weeks, a few hours? Was he perhaps in his throne-room now, speaking with their chief and sealing her fate?

"Keep playing your scales, dearie," Impa called from the corner of the room, where she sat in an ancient armchair. Her hands wove across her lap as she knitted what appeared to be a rather lopsided scarf out of blue wool.

"I hate the harp," Zelda muttered under her breath, but she nonetheless continued with her poorly played exercises. The old woman nodded in satisfaction and went back to her scarf.

_Plink, plink, plink, plink, plink._ The princess's hands were beginning to hurt, and not just from the cutting metal strings of the harp. The prickling sensation on the back of her right hand was steadily becoming a sharp burn, as though a bruise throbbed just beneath the surface. And, with each stab of pain her hand brought, another idea shot through her mind, racing like quicksilver across her consciousness before being filed away in that steadily growing entity that was the Plan. _All I need now,_ she thought, _is the time and place of the meeting. I have to find out what my father says to the Gerudo chief._ Eavesdropping on the servants seemed the easiest way: the droves of livery-clad maids who kept the castle running as smoothly as the clock on the wall were always well-informed about what was going on in the castle, and prone to gossip when they thought no one but themselves could hear. The only obstruction to this course of action was Impa, sitting serenely in her armchair and yet at the same time radiating the implication that if a certain princess tried to leave the room before her lessons were over there would be _unpleasantness_. "You're not playing, dear." Impa stated without looking up, and Zelda went grudgingly back to her harp-strings.

_Plink, plink, plink, plink, plink. _Of course, she could always get the information out of Impa herself. The Plan morphed smoothly into another shape as it melded with this new line of thought. "Impa?" she called above the plucking of the harp, and her nursemaid responded with a noncommittal sigh. Taking this as a sign to go on -provided she continue her practicing- the princess leaned back casually against the couch and began to speak.

"I have dreams sometimes. Daydreams, really, but they're nice."

"I'm sure they are," the woman murmured, without much interest.

Pretending to seek a more comfortable grip on her harp, Zelda shifted in her seat to get a better view of her nursemaid. She realized she was biting her lip in anticipation, and silently cursed the habit as she released it, hoping Impa hadn't noticed. "I dream about lots of things. Mostly about the Gerudo Thieves."

She had to hand it to the old woman; Impa's expression remained unreadable at the sudden mention of the Gerudo, and only the tiniest flicker of her red-violet eyes betrayed the fact that she was now paying rapt attention.

_Plink, plink, plink, plink, plink._ "I've always wanted to see a Gerudo Thief," Zelda continued. Despite her nervousness and the pain in her hand, it was still all she could do to keep a triumphant smirk off her face. "You're always telling me those stories."

"They're just stories, dear," Impa answered resignedly. "I think you'll find that real life is seldom as romantic."

Zelda sighed and plucked at a few harp-strings in feigned disappointment. "I suppose I'll never get to see one anyway. It's not as if a Gerudo would just show up in the castle, is it?" The princess put as much significant emphasis into that sentence as she dared, and a silent crow of victory sounded in her head as Impa flinched. The hint hadn't been very subtle, but it had served its purpose. _Because now she knows,_ Zelda thought. _She knows that _I_ know, and with any luck she'll probe to find out how far that knowledge goes._

The old nursemaid slowly set down her knitting on the arm of the chair and asked in a careful voice, "How much did you hear when you were spying on that meeting? Don't try to deny it now, dearie," she added at the faked look of objection on Zelda's face. The princess mentally congratulated herself on her acting prowess. Her mask of denial quickly turned to a wince, however, as a needle of pain shot through her hand, and with it a stream of thought through her mind, giving her the words to speak next. Hoping Impa took the expression as a reaction to being called out on her spying, Zelda quickly spoke up.

"I heard everything. All about how father is going to meet with the Thieves, and about the war, and…" But here she trailed off, unable to bring herself to mention the arranged marriage between herself and the Gerudo chief.

Impa shook her head. "You shouldn't have heard any of it. Your father and I decided it was for the best. You were happier not knowing."

"But why not?!" Zelda protested angrily, throwing her harp onto the silky beige couch cushions with a muffled _twang_ of strings that secretly brought her a great deal of pleasure. Impa hissed disapprovingly.

"Griselda, that is _no_ way to treat an instrument!"

"Well, the way you and father and all the other nobles have been keeping me in the dark is no way to treat a _princess_! Why shouldn't I know that my country is going to war? Why can't I be a part of it?" Beneath her layers of cool, calculating thought, Zelda was surprised to find a steadily increasing throb of real anger and used it to her advantage, biting down hard on her lip and throwing all the passion she could into her voice. "If I'm going to be queen someday, I need to know how to deal with things like treaties and war. Just let me sit in on my father's meeting with the Gerudo; imagine what I could learn!"

"NO!" Impa shouted, leaping to her feet, and there was a tone of fury in her voice that Zelda had never heard from her before. The pain in her hand abruptly vanished, and the Plan skittered in fear to the back of her mind, leaving the princess alone, frightened, and filled with a sudden horror at the conniving, manipulative thing she was trying to do. What had she been thinking; plotting, spying, and telling lies to weasel information out of her nursemaid? Towering over the shaken princess, Impa glared down at her charge with fire in her harsh eyes, but her gaze softened when she recognized the tears streaking down Zelda's face.

"Zelda, dearie," she murmured, and Zelda was relieved to hear her voice devoid of anger. "I didn't mean to scare you. Here, it's alright…" She sat down next to Zelda on the couch, and the princess buried her face in Impa's shoulder, her thin frame shuddering as she wept. Impa quietly stroked her golden hair, whispering condolences. "There, there, now. I know you must feel terrible, being left out like this, but it's for your own good."

"How can it _possibly _be for my own good?" Zelda interjected in a stifled voice from Impa's sleeve.

The old woman's hands cuddled her gently. "Dearie, there are forces at work here you don't understand; forces greater than little mortal troubles like war. You should be glad you're well out of it. Trust me, dear. During the meeting today you'll be here having your language lessons, and be all the happier for it."

Zelda had to grit her teeth against the burning sensation that coursed unexpectedly through her right hand. The pain had returned, and so had the Plan. Her deception had worked: the meeting was today during her language lesson, which began at nine. Impa had practically handed the information to her on a silver platter. Now all she needed to do was wait, and when the time was right slip away from her nursemaid's watchful eye. Satisfied, the pain ebbed away.

The princess sat up and wiped the tears from her cheeks, giving Impa a rather weak smile. "About these… these forces, can I ask what they are?"

The smile was returned. "Well, I can't tell you everything," Impa confided. "Some secrets are too dangerous to know." She gave Zelda a conspiratorial wink and continued. "What I _can_ tell you is that it all happened seventy years ago, when your grandmother Zelda was about your age. Have I ever told you any stories about your grandmother?"

"All the time!" Zelda answered excitedly, realizing she was about to hear one of Impa's wonderful stories. "About how she traveled across Hyrule disguised as a boy, and all the adventures she had! My favorite is the one where she fought off that group of Moblin bandits…"

"Well, this is a new story," Impa cut in. "Or, I should say, a very old story. So old in fact that it became more of a legend. It tells of how your grandmother met a strange young Hero dressed in green, of an evil Gerudo magic wielder who seized the throne of Hyrule, of a desperate flight across the kingdom, of how the sorcerer captured your grandmother and the Hero fought valiantly to free her, and of course, it tells of an ancient power that bound these three together."

"Tell me!" the princess urged, grinning broadly at the promised tale.

Impa opened her mouth to begin, but a sudden sharp rap sounded behind them, as if someone had taken their fist and pounded on the marble wall. Zelda twisted in her seat to look behind her. The oak-paneled door of the lessons-room was wide open, and a young man wearing the livery of the palace servants stood in the doorway, his hand still poised to knock on the doorframe and a vermillion blush rising in his clean-shaven face as he realized he had interrupted the princess's lesson. "Erm… I… I'll just wait… outside then…" he muttered, moving to shut the door again, but froze as Impa stood.

The woman gave him an icy smile. "What brings you here, dearie?" The sentence seemed to be echoed by unspoken words. _And why do you have the gall to interrupt Zelda's music lesson?!_ The servant gulped and shot Zelda a frightened look before speaking. Zelda could sympathize. Being questioned by Impa was rarely a pleasant experience. Those red eyes seemed to pierce right through you and find everything you'd ever done wrong.

"I… I'm s-supposed to tell you, Miss Impa…" He looked down and fumbled miserably with a button on his coat; anything to avoid those piercing eyes. "The meeting… They need you right now for it, Ma'am…"

Without being able to help herself, the princess cast a quick glance at the clock. Had their conversation really taken half an hour? Sure enough, the clock over the mantle was ticking away: eight-forty-five. And, if she wasn't mistaken, this messenger had just given her a way to sneak out of Impa's grasp. "What do they need you for, Impa?" she asked curiously, looking up at her nursemaid, but Impa was shaking her head.

"I know what you're thinking dearie, and the answer is no. Whether or not I'm here, you will not be leaving this room to spy on the meeting." _She knows me too well, _Zelda thought angrily. "You there," Impa called to the servant, who had been attempting to sneak out of the room unnoticed, "What's your name?"

Caught beneath Impa's analyzing gaze, the servant squirmed as he tried desperately to recall his own name. "Er… Maru, ma'am. Maru Dewitt. I was supposed to be working down in the kitchens, but they told to come find you and…"

"Well then, Maru Dewitt," Impa interrupted. "I have a job for you. There may be a red rupee in it for you if you do well."

The young man's eyes widened at the prospect of pay -a red rupee was worth twenty rupees, and probably more than he earned in a week- and he nodded vigorously.

"Good," Zelda's nursemaid continued. "If you'd just stand by this door while I'm gone and make sure the princess continues practicing her harp…" _And doesn't leave the room,_ came Zelda's petulant thought. "…I'll give you that rupee when I get back."

"Yes'm!" the servant answered helpfully, and Impa seemed satisfied. Pausing on the threshold of the door, she shot the princess one last meaningful look, and then she was gone, the echoes of her footsteps dwindling in the maze of marble hallways beyond.

The servant was watching Zelda nervously. "Well… go on, practice then," he muttered.

Zelda stood and put her hands on her hips as she looked him up and down. As a final obstacle to her plan, Maru Dewitt seemed a pretty pathetic last line of defense. Prompted by her aching right hand, she shot him a rather distressing grin. "Hey, Maru, I'll give you _two_ red rupees right this minute if you go away."

"You… you don't have two red rupees," the servant stammered, going pale. "And… and Miss Impa would _kill_ me!"

Well, she had never expected that to work. Letting the grin slide off her face, the princess replaced it with a slight frown and clasped her hands to her breast: the very image of a damsel in distress. "Then could you at least get me a glass of water? It's so hot in here." Actually, the temperature was only moderately warm, but she hoped the servant would be too flustered to notice.

"I can't!" he answered hurriedly. "You'd… run away or something! I'm supposed to… supposed to…"

"But I'm so hot!" Zelda moaned weakly, resting the back of her hand dramatically across her forehead. In most of Impa's stories the princess was seldom helpless and much too busy beating the wits out of potential kidnappers and villains to do pointless things like fawn pathetically about glasses of water, so it was from her own imagination that Zelda had to draw any frame of reference. Her act seemed to be working regardless, because the servant had gone white as a sheet, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if unsure of whether to stay or go. _Perfect._

"I could… I could open a… a window…" he began, but with a slight sigh, Zelda fainted dramatically onto the couch. She listened as the servant gave a strangled yell and rushed off down the hallway, shouting for help. The cries faded, but Zelda lay where she was for a few seconds more, just in case. When she had counted slowly to ten and no returning footsteps seemed forthcoming, she stood and tiptoed to the door, peering around the frame to check if anyone was watching. The cavernous marble halls were empty. The Plan gave a joyous skip inside her head, and laughing softly to herself, Princess Griselda de'Hyrule darted off into the brightly lit hallway and was gone.

___________________________

**Notes from the author:**

I get a kick out of the fact that Impa knits. XD

Zelda, that is not the responsible way to use your triforce.

Next chapter: two of our three protagonists finally meet, and Zelda ruins everything.


	6. Forest: Meeting

**The Legend of Zelda: Shadowsong  
Book One - Forest**

**Chapter Six - Meeting **

The heels of Zelda's boots made a rapid clicking sound as they struck the cold tiles of the floor, muffled only as she crossed an occasional carpet before striking up their rhythm once again. They were specially tailored; made of white leather and lined with a velvety layer of red satin, and their gold buckles flashed with each step that made them briefly venture from beneath the sweeping hem of her dress. The height of fashion, and therefore utterly worthless for running in.

The princess paused for a moment to exasperatedly kick them off her feet and leave them lying in the hallway. A moment later found her dashing back to fetch them as she realized that leaving her shoes in the middle of the floor would be as good as a beacon for anyone trying to find where she'd gone. Locating a large, decorative porcelain urn displayed within a niche in the wall, she hurriedly thrust the boots inside and dashed away.

Her hand was throbbing again. The girl shot a glance at it as she ran, not at all surprised to find that a small area of skin had started to darken, like the beginnings of an angry bruise. The information was filed away. She could worry about that later, but for now she had a more pressing problem. Where to go from here? Attempting to spy at the door to the throne room seemed out of the question. Impa had already caught her there once this morning and Zelda had no doubt the spot would be heavily guarded during the meeting. _Think, _the pain impelled. _I _know_ this castle. I grew up here and I know every inch of it. There must be another way into the throne room…_

The servants' entrance. The answer seemed so obvious that Zelda was surprised it had taken her so long to think of. Hyrule Castle's servants led a secret life all their own in the catacomb of kitchens, washrooms, and hidden corridors that ran unseen behind every regal marble wall. As a small child she had often snuck away to play in these passages, reappearing in the kitchen or the stables and habitually returning to her rooms covered in muck. The disgusted glances and mutterings of Hyrule's nobility had finally forced Impa to take the young tomboy aside and give her a firm talk about what _was_ and _was not _acceptable behavior for a princess. Zelda hadn't been in the servants' corridors since, but those long ago years of exploring had cemented their layout in her mind. She could recall an entrance to the throne room just behind her father's golden seat: a door concealed by a few sweeps of red-velvet drapery.

It seemed ideal for what she had planned. Without the slightest break in her somewhat awkward stride, Zelda set a course for the nearest entrance to the servants' corridors. It was right where she remembered it; tactfully hidden by a large blue-and-gold tapestry depicting some historic battle. The princess lifted an edge and ducked behind. The thick material was stiff and somewhat heavier than she had expected, but as a result it swung back into place instantly, with barely a crease in the cloth to show she had been through. Satisfied that she was now safely concealed, Zelda took a chance to look around.

She was in a narrow hallway. There were no windows along these walls, only short, flickering tallow candles which protruded from long brass spikes set high into the stonework. And stonework it was, for now that she had left the public corridors the thin veneer of rich marble had given way to show the coarse granite blocks underneath. Zelda stepped forward, hesitantly at first, than gaining confidence and speed as she recalled which way to go. She ran, and the rough stone floor slapped cold against her bare feet. The dim sputtering of the candles flew past in a blur -light, shadow, light, shadow- and the wind of her passage made them gutter all the more, spilling trails of hot wax down into the darkness to splatter across the ground. Gradually, another glow began to permeate the gloom, unwavering and source unknown. It seemed for all the world as if it were coming from Zelda herself, but of course this couldn't be. And all the while her hand burned on.

As she delved deeper into the heart of Hyrule Castle, the hallway branched out into a network of twists, turns, corners and crossroads, like the inner workings of a maze. The seemingly deserted labyrinth began to show signs of life. Servants walked in ones and twos along the narrow corridors, some carrying baskets of laundry, some pushing trolleys loaded with steaming dishes of food to be served to the nobles as the lunch hour drew near, and all in the clean blue-and-white livery of the royal family's upper servants. Many times Zelda had to double back on herself or hide around a corner as they passed by so as not to be seen. It didn't really matter if she was spotted or not, but the fact remained that she was not technically _supposed _to be here. _I'm the princess of Hyrule,_ she tried to remind herself. _I can go anywhere I like!_ But there was that little nagging doubt at the back of her mind that protested: _Impa won't like this…_ The less people who saw her, the less chance there was that Impa would somehow find out.

As she neared the warren of hallways which led to the kitchens, the pairs of servants turned to groups, and the groups to droves. Zelda began catching glimpses of the lower servants now, marked by their plain peasant clothing and down-to-earth mannerisms. They talked and joked loudly as they passed, and their echoing voices gave the princess warning of their approach long before they came into view. It would be near impossible to enter the sprawling kitchens without being seen: her silk dress would draw eyes even if none of the kitchen workers recognized her, but luckily Zelda had no intention of going in that direction.

Near the kitchens another hallway veered off to the left, and it was this she took. The corridor was seldom used, and if possible, even darker and narrower than the others. In many places the candles had burned out and not been replaced, and their cool slick wax pooled on the floor and crumbled as she stepped across it. The floor sloped upward, gently at first, and then at a steadily gaining angle until Zelda had to slow to a walk out of sheer breathlessness from running uphill. The throne room, from what she could recall, was near the top of the castle; at least ten floors up if not more, but with so many dips and rises in her run through the inner passageways, the princess had no idea how far she had yet to climb.

Not far, as it turned out. A moment later the ramp leveled out, and Zelda found herself in a small antechamber, lit only by the streaming white glow that spilled through a layer of long red curtains making up the far wall. The walls were marble again, and the floor was smooth tile under her rather sore feet. Zelda bit her lip hard with excitement. She was here! She had made it to the throne room with only minutes to spare, and the back of her hand pulsed stingingly with the joy of it. Heart pounding, she crept forward with the stealth of a mouse and twitched the curtains farther aside, just enough for one of her violet eyes to peer through.

The hard part was over. All that was left now was to crouch down and wait…

* * *

Time passed. As the beams of sunlight from the windows high along each wall slowly turned to mark the movement of the sun, people began filing into the great throne room. Zelda dismissed the spear-toting guards and the palace servants, (after smugly taking note, for a moment, that Maru Dewitt was among them looking red-faced and flustered) and focused instead on the nobles as they sauntered in at a leisurely pace, talking amongst themselves. Her eyes immediately picked out Lord Samuel from the crowd, dressed as he was in an emerald tunic to match the unusual color of his eyes. The young princess forced herself not to bite her lip and instead stuck her tongue out at him petulantly. It was easy to be brave when no one could see her.

It was a whole lot harder to be brave when her father entered the room. In a blaze of white beard and scarlet robes he strode across the throne room, followed by a few nervous courtiers scampering along in his wake and carrying stacks of paper that Zelda assumed contained notes regarding the peace treaty. Daphnes Nohansen de'Hyrule was a tall man, and it was difficult to keep up with his long strides. Zelda found herself holding her breath guiltily until her finally sat down on the throne, where only his left elbow was visible to her behind the bulk of the gilded chair. The dark bruise on her hand gave a twitch of pain, and she exhaled with a hiss, berating herself for feeling guilty.

When she glanced up again, Impa was standing beside the throne. Funny; she hadn't even seen the woman come in. The guilt grew. _Impa trusted me not to spy on the meeting… She'll be so disappointed if she- _ Her hand gave a painful throb, and her thoughts were clear again. It didn't matter. What was important now was the Plan. Gather information, through any means necessary, and use it all to further the Plan.

The great wooden double-doors of the throne room opened for the final time.

The Gerudo were beautiful.

As a child, Zelda had heard dozens of tales about the Gerudo Theives. Impa had a straightforward, stiff method of storytelling when it came to battles and skirmishes, but every once in a while, when some aspect of her tale was really worth describing, she would melt into flowing, flowery prose that made pictures paint themselves in one's head. But though she had heard stories, the princess had never before seen a Gerudo in person. Now, peeping out from behind the curtain, it was like looking into a fairy tale.

They were tall and copper-skinned, their faces exotically angular and their noses long and narrow beneath hair the color of fire, such as Zelda had never seen on a living person before. The man at the head of the group was nearly as tall as her father! She could hear the nobles whispering to each other along the edges of the room and wondered if the Gerudo could hear them as well, or if they could hear anything at all with those strange round ears.

The man- _chief_, according to Impa's stories, walked confidently toward the throne, and the others followed. _He's not confident, _said the pain in her hand, twingeing uncomfortably. _Look closely at his eyes; he's terrified._

As they reached the dais upon which the throne sat, Impa stepped forward and spoke in a strange string of syllables (half of which caught in the back of her throat, and made her sound as if she was gargling gravel), which Zelda realized must be the Gerudo language.

"We have no need of a translator." The shortest Gerudo's response was stiffly polite, though garbled by her heavy accent. Zelda tried to remember what Impa's stories had taught her about Gerudo hierarchy and culture. Supposedly you could tell a Gerudo's position by the clothes she wore, but the woman's colorful blouse and hair bun glittering with golden trinkets didn't seem to place her in any specific role.

"I am Byara Jhinn-R_h_aan," the Gerudo continued, talking to Impa. Briefly, the princess wondered how the woman had known not to speak directly to the king. Perhaps the Thieves had similar customs when it came to royalty?

"I am Impa of the Sheikah, advisor to his Majesty," Zelda's nursemaid responded in a tone of voice that trod carefully though the delicate motions of etiquette. _Of the Sheikah?_ She'd never heard that title before, but there was no time now to ponder over it. "May I present to you his Majesty, Daphnes Nohansen de'Hyrule."

The Gerudo woman made a low, perfectly executed curtsy to the king, and the Gerudo man beside her gave a rather stiff and awkward bow, as if he wasn't used to the motion.

"And may I present to you Chief Shirobi Ra_h_ad, of the Gerudo tribe."

There was a tense moment in which the Gerudo chief seemed unsure of whether he should bow again, and Zelda felt a bit of sympathy for him. Her father was an imposing man; she couldn't even imagine what it would be like to meet him for the first time. The feeling faded when she remembered that this Gerudo was the man Lord Samuel wanted her to marry.

The rest of the introductions were made, and Zelda made a point of committing the Gerudo Embassy's names to memory. Merlay Rahad was related to the chief somehow, and Zelda took her for a second-in-command. Judging by her white clothes, Rhea Sihha, the one with the spectacles, was some kind of doctor or potion-maker. Aer Ali and Lysper Dragmire (Where had she heard that name before? It sounded so familiar...) were bodyguards like the guards there at the castle, and Lysper was the lower-ranked out of the two, if the princess remembered the significance of her purple uniform and veil correctly. Although she still couldn't be sure of Byara she took a wild guess that the woman was some sort of translator, since none of the others appeared to speak Hylian as fluently.

As the conversation turned to a dry series of introductions concerning the Hylian nobility, Zelda allowed her mind to wander for a bit, processing the information she had gathered so far. Her thoughts meandered back to the earlier conversation with Impa.

_"I know you must feel terrible, being left out like this, but it's for your own good."_

_"Dearie, there are forces at work here you don't understand; forces greater than little mortal troubles like war."_

_"Some secrets are too dangerous to know."_

At the time she had brushed it off as an attempt to scare her out of spying, but looking back it all seemed so… cryptic. Impa usually spoke her mind; it wasn't like her to wrap her stories up in riddles and tantalizing hints. The princess puzzled over it for a while, her hand prickling with pins and needles. Impa had implied that it would be dangerous for Zelda to attend the meeting. But surely the palace guards could have protected her if the Gerudo became violent…

…It was not the most horrible sound Zelda would ever hear, but it made for a close second. A loud _riiiiiiiiip_ pierced Zelda's thoughts as the material clutched in her hand tore away from the archway above. Too late, she understood that she had been leaning too heavily on it, but there was no time to correct her balance. As if in horrible slow motion the curtain fell, and Zelda overbalanced and landed with a ringing _smack_ against the beige and red tiles of the throne room, right beside the dais where her father sat.

The room went absolutely silent. Without looking up, she knew that every eye in the throne room was on her, and the blood rushed to her face and she bit down hard on her lip and wished she could melt through the floor. Her legs were tangled up in the heavy fabric of the curtain, otherwise she would have bolted as soon as she hit the ground. But it was too late now, too late for anything but cold glares from her nursemaid and her father, and a month confined to her room and whatever other privileges they would take away. But they couldn't do that, because she was getting married, wasn't she…

Her hand burned. _Don't act like a child. The Plan will work, and you'll be the queen of Hyrule someday. Show them you're not afraid. _Slowly, she raised her head.

* * *

Shirobi's head snapped around at the sound of the tearing curtain, and beside him Lysper and Aer unsheathed their weapons and took up defensive positions. Lysper was brandishing her spear expertly and wearing an eager smirk beneath the violet gauze of her veil: this would be the first combat she had seen since arriving in Hyrule. Aer's twin scimitars twirled once and went deathly still, waiting for an order from her chief to strike. A wave of frantic murmuring swept across the room as the Hylian nobility panicked at the sight of bared weaponry. One nobelwoman, fat and covered in jewelry, fainted.

_Fire of Din!_ Shirobi clenched his fists and inwardly cursed. _Din's fire, fire of Din, boar's blood, no no NO!_ He was certain Byara had warned them about never drawing their weapons within the castle, which according to Hylian culture was not only against custom, but could be considered an act of war. No, it was alright, they would fix things somehow. He shot a fleeting, hateful glare at the girl now lying against the flagstones and attempting to untangle herself from the fallen curtain.

The child sprawled out across the floor was no threat; a mere girl of barely fourteen summers, and behind the glamour of the extravagant embroidered gown she wore, he could see that she was ugly and pale like most Hylians. She raised her head defiantly and glared around at the room at large, a fiery blush rising in a face swathed with freckles. She was biting down hard on her lip, and there was a gap between her front teeth. Shirobi's mind instantly classified her as _j'han_: a "useless woman." Most of the noblewomen he'd been introduced to today were _j'han_.

"Don't draw your weapons in the presence of the king!" Byara was hissing frantically to Lysper and Aer, speaking in the Gerudo language so that none of the Hylians –save this strange, gray-haired Impa woman, apparently- could understand her. Shirobi made a motion towards them to stand at ease, and his bodyguards did so reluctantly.

It had all happened in only a few seconds, but already Merlay, always the peacemaker, was stepping forward to mend the situation. "We..." She paused for a moment, searching for a Hylian word that meant "apologize for an accidental breech of etiquette," failed to find one, and settled for: "We are in the wrong and know this."

"We extend our apologies for this outrage," the woman named Impa said hurriedly at the exact same time, her words running together with Merlay's.

Shirobi blinked and unclenched his fists, his tension dissolving. Had the Hylians somehow broken one of their own customs as well?

"This is mearly a misunderstanding, I'm sure," Impa continued, speaking to the entire assembly, and Shirobi caught a strange tone in her voice. Fear, perhaps, or urgency. "The young princess has made a fool of herself. Your Majesty, if I may escort her to her chambers..." She gave a short bow in the direction of the king. (Not a curtsy, but a bow. Surely Byara had said something about that...)

It was the first time Shirobi had heard the king's voice, and the deep, commanding baritone of it didn't surprise him. Daphnes Nohansen de'Hyrule gave a short nod and turned to look directly at the ugly young princess, speaking four short words that seemed to radiate disapproval and regret.

"You disappoint me, Zelda."

And then the world caught fire.

* * *

A shriek ripped from Zelda's throat as the bruise on her hand burst into a brilliant blaze of golden-white light, bringing with it a searing blast of pain as if her skin itself were burning off. The Gerudo chief gave a pained gasp as his own right hand erupted with light.

"Black Magic!" someone screamed, and a moment later the throne room exploded into panic. Shouts and frantic babbling broke out amongst the nobility and servants alike, as the previously stately crowds became a rushing mob, trying to push past each other out the doors. The king was standing, shouting for the guards despite the harsh warnings being called out by Impa, and at his command a small legion of armored men were closing in on the Gerudo Embassy and brandishing their spears as if this were all some kind of Gerudo shadow magic. The Embassy had formed a tight circle around their chief, who was clutching at his hand and stricken motionless with pain. Their weapons were drawn, but if there was a battle Zelda saw no more of it. Through blurred vision she registered the Gerudo Chief collapse, and a moment later the pain overwhelmed her and she too slipped away into darkness.

* * *

Miles away, in the dusky shadows of the ancient, overgrown forest temple, Lincoln Shepherd rolled over in his sleep. His left hand glowed faintly golden for a moment, then went dark.

______________________________

**Notes from the author:**

Six chapters in, and we finally get to the plot. The triforces have met, and Shirobi's embassy of peace is failing rather miserably, as is Zelda's mysterious Plan.

In the next chapter we meet back up with Link and Minuet, and it's time for some good old-fashioned dungeon crawling! Forest Temple, here we come!


	7. Forest: Abyss

**The Legend of Zelda: Shadowsong  
Book One - Forest**

**Chapter Seven: Abyss **

Link's hand was prickling.

There was a glow of light behind his eyes, turning the insides of his eyelids orange and warming his face. Sunlight.

Were they outside the temple, then? Had her, perhaps, hit his head hard enough last night to simply _imagine_ that the temple doors hand been locked? It was a nice thought, in a way, but Link had enough common sense to know it wasn't true. He let himself enjoy the sun on his face for a moment longer -one more moment to pretend that everything was a dream and any minute now he'd open his eyes to find himself in his own bed in Ordon, with the sun streaming in through the window- then he opened his eyes.

For a second the light blinded him, and the boy had to squint until his eyes adjusted to the brilliance. He was still in the forest temple. The overgrown, cathedral-like stone entryway loomed around and above him, the walls of the room rising until they were lost in the dusk that shrouded the ceiling above. Through holes in the ceiling worn away by centuries of weathering and plant growth, shafts of golden sunlight slanted through the gloom, making little islands of light on the stone-paved floor. Link sat in the middle of one of these islands and watched little motes of dust float lazily through the sunlight, feeling not at all unhappy, now that the previous day's aches and pains were gone.

After a while, he got up and tried opening the temple doors again. They were still locked.

From the slant of the light it looked to be a little before noon. Well, no reason to panic. Eventually someone, most likely Sage Fado, would notice they were gone and come looking for them. The trail leading to the Forest Temple was a long one; longer for a stiff-jointed old man, so it was no surprise that a rescue hadn't yet arrived.

A stifled yawn came from where Minuet was curled up on the ground, and a moment later she stirred and sat up, dazedly rubbing sleep from her eyes. She looked around in confusion for a moment before spotting him. "Link?"

"Still locked," he responded, answering the unasked question.

She looked somewhat dejected. "I thought maybe it would... unlock itself or something while we were asleep.

"I'm sure Sage Fado knows how to unlock it," Link assured her. "We just have to wait until he gets here."

His calm seemed to rub off on Minuet. "No breakfast then," she muttered, half joking and half complaining.

"Not unless you'd like to try raw Boko Baba," Link suggested, and Minuet made a face.

"Ugh, I never want to think about that night again. And I just know there are more of those things growing around the temple." She shuddered and drew her sagecloak a little more tightly around herself. "It seems like every time we come here there are more and more monsters. And now the spirits are acting strangely and there's this strange... _feeling_ all around the temple and..." She trailed off. "Something is wrong with the Forest Temple."

"I believe you," Link stated truthfully. It was hard to doubt Minuet, whose extra sense was never turned off, who could sense the "wrongness" of things just by letting the forest spirits guide her. Still, his unspoken: _But there's nothing we can do about it,_ seemed to hang heavily in the air between them.

They sat against the towering stone doors in silence for quite a while.

"He won't be able to open the doors," Minuet said quietly.

"What?"

"Sage Fado won't be able to open the doors of the temple."

Link's heart sank. "Oh."

"They didn't just lock by themselves. I think... I think that feeling of being watched… whatever is wrong with the temple is holding the doors shut."

It wasn't merely paranoia. With Minuet it was never paranoia. Somewhere in the brush covering the far wall, a skullwalltula scuttled around and went still again. A breeze drifted past, carrying with it the smells of decaying plants, and teased Link's hair a bit. Link stood up.

"Then we'll find another way out."

Minuet looked up at him. "But there's only one door..."

_A breeze drifted past, carrying with it the smells of decaying plants, and teased Link's hair a bit._

_A breeze…_

"Feel that?" Link asked, holding a hand high above his head and feeling the slight air currents brush past it. "It's not coming from the holes in the ceiling. This Temple is full of cracks and broken walls; I'm sure we can find one big enough to crawl through."

Minuet blinked as she recognized the slight movement of the air around her. "We could just find where that breeze is coming from..."

"And follow it out of the Temple," Link finished, grinning. "See, I told you there was no reason to worry. Do you think you can follow it?" he added, knowing Minuet's senses were far superior to his own.

She nodded.

The mysterious breeze led them along the great entryway, Minuet walking in front with her hands outstretched and her eyes closed, the better to feel for elusive changes in the still air. Link picked his lantern pole up off the ground as they passed it. It was dented, bent, and scraped in several places, and the far end was sticky with coagulated sap, but it was the only weapon he had. With the Boko Baba incident still fresh in his mind, he wasn't about to face another enemy unprepared.

They reached the shadows at the end of the cavernous hallway, and Minuet stopped and opened her eyes, confused. "This can't be right..."

They were standing before the door to the inner sanctum, the door that was always locked and yet somehow, just for now, was unlatched. Inexplicably, it had swung about a third of the way open again, and this time there was a faint glow of sunlight coming from inside. A steady breeze wafted gently out of the door, and the smell of decay was strong.

"It was like that last night, too," Link told her.

"Should we-" she began, but left the rest unsaid. The inner sanctum forbidden to all but the temple Sage; apprentices were told that a terrible fate would befall them if they entered before they were deemed worthy. Minuet shuffled her feet nervously.

"If Sage Fado really can't open the doors, then we don't have much of a choice," Link reminded her. In truth, he was curious. He'd almost had a chance to peek inside this room the night before. In fact, he'd had one foot halfway through the door and he hadn't disintegrated on the spot, so there was no curse on this part of the temple. Those unseen eyes watched him expectantly, silently encouraging him to open the door.

Minuet agreed reluctantly, and Link reached out, excitement mounting, and pushed the door open.

A rush of wind gushed past them, whipping their hair and cloaks behind them and reeking with the odor of dead leaves, mildew, rotting vegetation, and some other, more animal smell that Link couldn't quite name. He clapped a hand across his face instinctively and ventured through the door, the wind still rushing around him and Minuet following tentatively on his heels.

The inner sanctum was like nothing he could have ever imagined.

Link had considered the entryway to be huge, but this colossal circular room dwarfed it by comparison. It was a vertical shaft the size of a coliseum, and the two apprentice Sages stood on a small ledge jutting from door through which they had come and stared down into what could only be described as an abyss. The inner sanctum had no floor: its circular walls continued down into an endless darkness so deep that not even the shafts of sunlight from somewhere far above could penetrate it. High winds roared upwards from the depths below. It was like standing at the edge of the world.

Slightly thrown off-balance by vertigo, Link craned his neck to stare up the length of the shaft. There were other ledges above them, jutting out at irregular intervals from the shaft walls, and other doors along these ledges. Long, weathered, precarious rope bridges stretched across the gaping chasm, connecting one door to another and making a crisscrossing network far above his head. They creaked and swayed dangerously in the wind, sunlight streaming between them.

Following the wind seemed out of the question now, if it was coming from the depths below. But one of those doors might lead out of the temple. Link voiced as much as he eyed the nearest one, directly across the chasm from them. He could see the remains of a rope bridge dangling uselessly from the outcropping before it, recently broken from wear and decay. It was too far to jump; the distant door must have been at least three hundred feet away, and without the bridge it may as well have been a mile.

Minuet looked up at him nervously. "You're not going to try to jump that, are you?"

Link shook his head. Any such attempt would be certain death. His eyes fell upon the sweeping circumference of the wall, where a thin ridge, no more than an inch or two across, protruded decoratively from the wall and (as far as he could tell) ran around the entire circle. It was meant to be no more than decoration, he was sure, and it looked cracked and brittle in some places, but it was wide enough to sidle along...

"Hold this," Link said, thrusting the lantern pole into Minuet's flustered hands. "I'm going to try and reach that door."

Wide-eyed, Minuet took the pole and clutched it uncertainly. "What are you doing-" she began, but the sentence ended in a shriek as Link faced the part of the curving wall where the ridge began -just a foot or so from the ledge they stood on, made a running start, and leaped into the abyss.

His hands caught the ridge easily, and the rest of his body struck the wall with a muffled _thump_. Link strained his arms, and a moment later was able to pull himself up so that he was half sitting, the ledge being too thin to sit on fully. Minuet was shouting at him.

"Link, don't _do_ that! I wish you would explain these things to me before you do them; I thought you were going to die!"

Link had maneuvered himself carefully into a standing position. His back was to the wall, and the winds of the chasm roared past him and whipped at his sagecloak. Slowly, he began inching his way along the wall, trying not to look down or think about what was beneath him. "I'll be fine," he called back. "It's wide enough."

Minuet watched anxiously as he sidled along, getting farther and farther away from the safely of the wide ledge with every step. "How am I going to get across?" she asked.

"I'll figure that out when I get there." There seemed to be little else he could do. If no other option presented itself he could always work his way back along the wall and help Minuet get across the same way he had, although the concept was a little frightening.

It was slow going. The distance was mind-boggling, and Link had to move carefully in order to keep his balance. The void yawned beneath him.

It must have been around half an hour before Link finally achieved the far ledge. He reached it with a short jump and his shaking legs gave way beneath him. The boy sat there for a moment, panting, his heart pounding with adrenaline. He waved at Minuet, who looked like a tiny figurine from this distance, just to show her that he was alright. The broken rope bridged trailed away into the darkness below him. There didn't seem to be any way to fix it, and it was impossible to tell if it was even still long enough to reach across the chasm. Link cupped his hands and called out to Minuet, unsure of whether or not she could hear him over the howling of the wind.

"Stay there! I'm going to go look for a way to get you across."

If she responded, he didn't hear it.

The door at the back of the ledge was unbarred, and creaked softly as it opened into a room shrouded in near complete darkness. Link stepped through with an air of preoccupation and shut the door behind him. The sudden silence caused by the absence of the wind left a ringing in his ears. He felt his way carefully through the gloom, unsure of how large this room was or whether there were any hidden pitfalls ready to open up beneath his feet. One of his ears flicked involuntarily as somewhere above him several keese chittered quietly to each other. No need to panic; they were just animals. Still, his experience with the inner sanctum so far had left him oddly wary, and the constant feeling of invisible eyes watching over his shoulder was growing unnerving.

He needed a rope… no, no rope would stretch that three-hundred foot gap, but if he could reach one of the ledges above Minuet and find something to lower down to her...

With an echoing _clang_, his foot struck something made of metal. He barely had time to register some sort of raised metal plate before it sank into the ground and the room was flooded with light. Atop small wooden pillars on either side of Link, torches flared to life, their yellow-orange glow illuminating a small stone room with a door at either end. Blinking against the sudden blaze, Link realized that he had triggered some sort of switch. There must be some element of magic to these torches if they were able to light themselves; a magic that no doubt exempted them from the rule forbidding fire in the temple.

Confident that there was neither further help nor hindrance in this room, Link strode toward the far door... only to hear an enraged shriek from above. His head snapped up. The ceiling was thronged with roosting keese, their red eyes glittering in the torchlight, their needle-like teeth bared angrily, and their talons shifting with a restless rustling as one by one, they awoke to the intrusive light. There must have been more than fifty of them, and Link was suddenly painfully aware that he had left his lantern-pole with Minuet.

"Easy now," he muttered, backing away slowly and holding the edge of his sagecloak in front of him like a shield. "I'm a sage's apprentice, see? I won't hurt you-"

_Run,_ the unseen eyes seemed to say, and Link turned and ran.

Behind him the droves of keese spread their leathery wings and darted after him, keening furiously. He reached the far door, waving his arms wildly to keep the animals from scratching and biting at his face, and rushed through it, slamming it behind him and leaning heavily against it. The sound of frantic wings beating against the wood continued for a few minutes, them faded to silence, presumably as the torches burned out and darkness returned to the room.

The boy sighed heavily and rubbed at a couple of bleeding scratches on one arm. Keese weren't very dangerous even in large groups, but the incident was still unsettling. No animal, no matter how enraged, should attack someone wearing a sagecloak. It was an unwritten agreement with the spirits of Kokiri forest, a contract of protection older than Ordon itself. Minuet was right: there was something wrong with the Forest Temple.

He had emerged in a narrow corridor lined with more torches set into the walls. It curved away from him in an upward slope, and, encouraged that he was finally headed in the right direction, Link followed it.

His right hand absent-mindedly brushed the wall as he walked, and some part of him noticed that it came away sticky with spiderwebs.

* * *

Minuet sat cross-legged on the ledge by the door to the inner sanctum and waited patiently for Link to return. There was nothing to do but wait; she was too afraid to return to the entryway by herself, and she didn't dare brave the narrow ledge to follow him. At least here she knew there were no monsters.

To Minuet the world was a thing of shifting shadows and strange ghost-lights overlapping her more mundane senses, dancing across her vision and whispering in her pointed ears. In the forest temple there were spirits everywhere, and they crowded around her as she sat, shifting from wide-eyed children to strange, tree-like creatures to something else entirely. _Minuet… Minuet… Minuet… _they mouthed, their voices like white noise on the edge of her hearing, yet somehow drowning out the roaring of the wind. The unseen presence watched, but made no move to intervene.

Beyond the normal smell of decay that rose from the depths of the colossal shaft, there was a _feel_ of decay. Minuet could sense it like an oily uncleanliness in the air around her. It permeated the walls of the temple and wafted on the wind, growing ever stronger as it rose higher until the top of the shaft seemed no more than a sickly brown-black smudge that none but she could see. Curiously, she reached out her mind to the forest spirits.

_What's wrong with this place?_

_Irikokeht the Shadow, _they responded not quite in unison, so that their voices seemed a harmonic babble.

Minuet recognized the name of the soul-stealing monster that was said to spirit away naughty little children who didn't listen to their parents, but that was just a story for little ones, and the same name could be applied to any curse or darkness. She asked again.

_I don't understand._

_The temple guardian has been driven mad by the curse she was tasked to protect. The darkness sealed within the temple has fully awakened, and it seeks an escape. It took all of our power to lock the doors of the temple and keep it trapped within._

_Who is the guardian? _she asked. _You mean Sage Fado?_

_Queen Gohma, _they whispered. _ The great creature set to guard the curse. Queen Gohma has been possessed by the darkness, and through her it is destroying the temple. We know no more. Please… help her. Help us._

_I'll try, _Minuet promised, knowing there was little she could do. They seemed to understand. In the brief moment that they again looked like children, their wide eyes gazed at her sadly.

_Help us…_

____________________

_**Thoughts from the author:**_

I discovered the game ICO a little while after writing this chapter, and going back and reading it now, I get a very ICO vibe from Link and Minuet's whole forest temple experience.

Next chapter, Link acquires a weapon with a bit more flare than his busted-up lantern, and there are spiders to be killed with it.


	8. Forest: Spiders

**The Legend of Zelda: Shadowsong  
Book One - Forest**

**Chapter Eight: Spiders**

The inner sanctum, Link had come to realize, was something far greater than some sacred room where a sage came to pray. The great shaft at the center of the temple, rising from the depths below and howling with wind like some gargantuan organ pipe, must have been created for some greater purpose. It wasn't the first time Link had pondered on the nature of the sages' ancient duty, the secret knowledge long lost to the passing of time. Hundreds of years ago, in the time from which legends came, the sages had been _powerful_.

He was wandering a labyrinth. Time after time, Link would work his way through half a dozen rooms, only to find himself at a locked door or a dead end. The temple's twisting corridors were like a maze, leading him in circles. Thin veils of abandoned spiderweb hung like canopies across much of the ceiling and caught on his clothes and hair. The lavish carvings covering every available wall of the temple were overgrown with vines, but unlike in the outer chambers, these were thorny and spotted with rot. Though torches or faint shafts of sunlight illuminated most of the temple, there were far too many doorways leading into impenetrable darkness, and everywhere there were monsters.

Boko Baba had sprouted in many of the cracks in the stone paving that made up the floor of the temple. Link killed the small ones as best he could by stomping on them, and left the big ones to their own devices, edging around them and being careful to stay out of their limited reach. They rattled and snapped at him hungrily. The keese roosting in the first room seemed almost tame after repeatedly stumbling across the nests of far more savage creatures: fanged rope-snakes, voracious rats with beady red eyes, and skull-patterned skulltula spiders which leapt at him from their hiding places in the dark corners of the ceiling, some as big as his head. Weaponless, Link could do nothing but run. He wore the sagecloak; he had never before been attacked by an animal. He had no idea how to fight back.

He knew only that he had to keep traveling upward. Reach the ledge above Minuet and... And decide the rest when he got there. He had delved too far into the temple now, and he wasn't sure if he could find his way back. In this at least, the architecture seemed to take pity on him. The maze, or whatever it was, seemed to spiral around the giant shaft, its gently sloping hallways leading him gradually but steadily higher. Eventually one of the doors he tried would have to lead him back out onto one of the stone ledges overlooking the abyss.

The spiderwebs were growing thicker. Ghostly and white, they lay draped across every inch of the walls and ceiling like a funeral shroud, unfazed by the burning torches whose light they shrouded with their eerie pall. Link looked around as he walked; the change had been so gradual that at first he hadn't noticed. He was in a long hallway, for once devoid of any doorways or branching corridors save for one small wooden door at the far end. A place this thick with spiderwebs should have been teeming with skulltula, but for the last few minutes he hadn't come across another living thing.

Hesitantly, Link made his way to the door at the end of the hallway and pushed it carefully open. Sticky threads clung to his hand and he wiped them off on his cloak, by now more gray than green.

The room beyond was white. As a weak shaft of light from the doorway spilled into the room and turned total darkness to dusky gloom, the walls, floor, and ceiling of the room began to glow pale and ashen; light reflected from what Link suddenly recognized as spiderwebs, acres and acres of them, enough to cover a large room so completely that not a hint of the original architecture could be seen beneath them. Draped in veils of what looked like clinging lace and rising from the center of the room was a single unlit torch, and below that sat a small, nondescript wooden chest, the kind in which a poor man might put his keepsakes. Beyond that, the room appeared to be empty.

Link was struck once again by that unnerving sense of being watched, a feeling he had nearly forgotten during his exploration of the temple. Those silent eyes were observing him, almost as if they were waiting to see how he would react. Something about the voiceless watcher seemed to implore that this little wooden chest was vitally, earth-shatteringly important, that this was some great goal to have reached and that he was one of the chosen few that had reached it.

His curiosity spiked, the boy stepped forward.

Link had to brush away a film of spider-silk to find the latch holding the chest closed, and the wood was smooth and cool beneath his hands. There was no keyhole - the chest was unlocked. _Open it,_ the unseen eyes implored, and slowly he did so.

At the bottom of the chest, resting on a carpet of dusty green velvet, was a bow. Link had never seen a bow before, but he recognized it immediately. While weapons such as this were seldom seen in peaceful little Ordon village, the traders who sometimes passed through on their way to other places brought with them colorfully illuminated books full of pictures of bravery and battles. He'd never bought one of those books, but as a child he'd always taken the opportunity to leaf through them before the trader noticed and took the book away.

He picked it up. It was longer than he had always thought bows to be, beautifully curved and made from a light, springy wood that might have been yew. The taut, waxed string felt almost alive when he ran his fingers across it, and it hummed with subtle magic against his skin. Link knew he should be wondering what a bow was doing hidden deep within the forest temple, but all he could focus on was the strange sense of _rightness_ he felt when he held it in his hands, as if it had been made especially for him.

There was a quiver to go along with it, wrapped in red leather and decorated with what looked like gold leaf. It already held ten long wooden arrows tipped with iron and fletched with feathers, and there was plenty of room for more. Link slung the quiver over his shoulder and it too felt right; made to rest perfectly against his back.

_Of course_, the thought dawned on him. _It's a magic bow, isn't it? It's been enchanted somehow to conform perfectly to whoever uses it._ No doubt that was why the weapon had been hidden in the temple. It was probably a powerful weapon that had been entrusted to the protection of some ancient sage from generations ago. It would probably be a bad idea to take it with him...

But Link's mind drifted back to the monsters littering the temple hallways, monsters against which he had no way of defending himself. They were getting larger and more fierce the further he ventured into the temple, and Link knew that if he didn't find a way out soon he would be forced to abandon his search or be torn apart by the creatures blocking his path. He needed a weapon, and the temple had provided him with one. He could always turn the bow over to Sage Fado once he and Minuet had escaped.

Quiver on his shoulder and bow in hand, Link turned to leave the room.

The door slammed shut before he could reach it, plunging the world into darkness. His pointed ears twitched madly at the infinitesimal _click_ of the locking mechanism. He was trapped.

Somewhere in the shadows there was a faint sound, like the shuffle of thousands of overgrown insectoid legs scuttling across a carpet of spiderweb.

The emerged from their hiding places among the web; large, albino spiders as large as his head, their milky pink eyes glowing in the absolute blackness. Link could see nothing more of them than that, their eyes, weaving this way and that blinking out and back again as they scurried around, like a sky in which every star was constantly moving. They were blind, but Link knew enough about spiders to know that every time he moved he sent vibrations through the veils of web that covered the room from floor to ceiling. That was how they would find him. He stood as still as he could, hardly daring to breathe as they swarmed around him, some bumping into his legs and crawling across his feet. He had no idea what to do.

_Kill them,_ the unseen presence urged him. _Use the bow._

Use the bow? He had never wielded a bow, he had no idea how. Still, Link nocked an arrow to the bow in his hands, finding that the weapon's faint magic seemed to guide him, gently teaching his muscles how to move. He drew back the string and tried to aim at one of the wandering points of light, but the creatures were moving too erratically and in this darkness he had lost all sense of depth. Trusting luck, he let the arrow fly.

Against all odds it struck. The spider screamed, an agonizingly high-pitched sound like nails scraping across a blackboard, and the other spiders began to scurry faster and more frantically, still unable to find him as long as he didn't move his feet and disturb their webs. He fired another arrow, faster this time, and killed another.

It wasn't until the sixth kill that Link realized the flaw in his plan. There were hundreds of these spiders, and he only had ten arrows. Four, now.

_Light the torch, _came the invisible instructor's next thought. _They will flee from the light._

Link remembered how the torches had burst to life in the first room when he'd stepped on the metal switch in the middle of the floor. If this room had an unlit torch, then surely it would have a switch as well, hidden somewhere under all that clinging spiderweb. Carefully, ever so slowly, Link took a small step backwards.

The scuttling stopped. The dim pink points of light all around him froze in place for a moment, and then every single one of them turned to look in his direction.

This time he didn't need the mysterious spirit's advice. He ran.

Link tore across the room, weaving though curtains of web that clung to his face and hair, arms spread wide out in from of him to keep from barreling into the walls. He had no plan other than to run wildly through the room, hoping to step on the switch. Skittering in droves behind him, the spiders followed, almost as fast as he was, even in their blindness. One broke ahead of the others and launched itself with a hiss at his back, venomous fangs bared and glinting in the glow from its eyes. Link whipped around and shot it out of the air. Three arrows left.

He rapidly changed direction and the spiders followed suit. Two more jumped at him, and these too did he skewer with arrows. His magic bow seemed incapable of missing. One arrow left.

His foot hit the hidden switch with a crash of metal, and Link tripped and was sent sprawling onto his stomach as the torch blazed up and filled the room with light. The spiders scattered, all but one, which in its confusion had run up the far wall and gotten tangled in its own web. Without even thinking, Link shot his last arrow at it.

The wooden arrow passed straight through the torch and struck the spider, already ablaze. The pale arachnid screamed as the flames consumed it and spread rapidly across the dry cobwebs, seeking out more of the venomous creatures and killing them where they hid. In seconds, the entire room was alight and filled with the dying screams of spiders, and Link found himself pressed against a wall as the inferno surrounded him.

There was a slight grating of metal from the locked door beside him. It had unlatched itself, and Link hurriedly pushed it open and rushed outside, slamming it shut behind him. He dropped the bow, sat down in the middle of the corridor outside, and drew his knees up to his chest, hyperventilating. His heart hammered in his chest out of exhilaration and fear.

He'd just broken every taboo a sage's apprentice was beholden to. He'd killed, not just a hungry plant this time, but _animals_, living, breathing things that could feel pain, and he'd not only brought fire into the temple, he'd set it ablaze.

Link waited there on the floor for a long time, making sure that the fire didn't spread beyond that single room and wondering what good he'd be if it did. But though the flames eventually died out without spreading any further, through the smoldering wooden door he could still hear the muffled screams of the spiders.

*** * ***

At long last, Link reached a door that led back out into the vertical shaft at the center of the temple. Winds whipped past his face as he opened it, smelling of mildew and rot. The bridge here was unbroken, but it swayed wildly in the wind, fixed to the ledge he stood on by four ancient, decaying ropes wrapped around wooden posts, and nothing more.

Link got down onto his stomach and crawled to the edge of the ledge to peer down into the abyss.

"_MINUET!"_

"_LINK!" _She was on the ledge directly below him, about a hundred yards down. The girl craned her neck to stare up at him, her eyes wide. "Link, how am I going to get up there?"

Link sat back and looked around, and the ropes supporting the bridge caught his eye. The bridge was built in such a way that all it really needed to support itself was the lower two ropes; the upper two were merely something to hold onto when crossing. If he crossed the bridge and severed one of the ropes at the far end, he could leave the other end tied to its post and lower it down to Minuet. It was more than long enough. "Hold on!" he called out to her again. "I'll be right back!"

He shoved the bow rather haphazardly into the now empty quiver on his back in order to leave his hands free, wrapped one arm around a rope, and edged out onto the bridge. It shuddered and creaked, but it supported his weight. Crossing the abyss was much easier this time around. Even a swaying, wind-buffeted rope bridge was preferable to the narrow ridge he'd used the first time. He moved slowly, testing his weight before he stepped and always keeping one arm firmly wrapped around the rope in case he slipped or the wooden slats beneath him broke, but the bridge held and he reached the other side without incident.

Link left the rope he had been holding and instead went to work on breaking the one opposite. He had expected the damp, decaying fibers to be fairly easy to snap, but they held despite all his tugging, and so he instead untied it from its post and let it fall away. Minuet gave a little jump of surprise as it swung across the gap and the end of it smacked heavily against the ledge she was standing on. She wrapped a hand around it nervously.

"Am I going to have to climb?" she shouted up to him over the sound of the wind.

The boy was already making his way back across the now much more precarious bridge. "I'm afraid so. Don't worry, I'll climb down in a second and help you."

She waited for him to slide nimbly down the rope and join her. "It's sturdy. Here, wrap part of it around your yourself like _this_..." Link demonstrated, winding a loop of rope around Minuet's waist. "...So you can catch yourself if you fall. I'll climb up after you reach the top, and help you cross the bridge. I don't think we can get much further through the temple unless we cross to the other side."

She nodded, looking terrified but determined.

They had to leave the lantern pole behind, but as Link had a bow now, it hardly mattered. He watched from below as Minuet inched her way up the rope. Her sagecloak flapped wildly around her in the strong breeze, but she never stopped or looked down. When at last she had pulled herself over the lip of the ledge above, Link followed.

He held onto her as they crossed the bridge, one arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, guiding her. Minuet's eyes were shut tightly, and she refused to open them until her feet were planted safely on the far ledge. The girl wasn't afraid of heights so much as rickety bridges that could snap without warning and send her falling down into the endless darkness.

Once they'd again entered the dim, overgrown corridors that wound in circles around the turbulent shaft, Link filled Minuet in on the monsters that infested the temple, and how he'd gotten his bow. She in turn told him about her conversation with the Kokiri spirits, and how they had warned her of Irikokhet the Shadow, the dark curse that had corrupted the sacred ruins.

"And they mentioned someone called Queen Gohma," she finished, pulling a bit of spiderweb out of her hair. "They said she was a creature who was supposed to be guarding the curse and keeping it from escaping, but it somehow possessed her and caused her to start ruining the temple. Link, this weird feeling I've been having, this... presence... I think it might be the curse! And I've never really noticed it before because it's just now taken over Queen Gohma and started running wild!"

"I'm not sure if that's the case," Link murmured thoughtfully. "Whatever it was you sensed, it helped me out back in that room full of spiders. I think it's on our side."

"So it can't be the curse, then." They were walking slowly through the twisting hallways now, and Link kept pausing to check the little clay jars that lined the walls at random intervals, having discovered earlier that a few of them contained arrows. "It's just so frightening, Link. It's hard to believe it can be a good thing."

"Maybe it can't help that it's frightening," Link answered. "Maybe it doesn't know how not to be."

"But what is it, if it isn't the curse?"

"I don't know. What do you suppose Queen Gohma looks like? I haven't seen anything but common animals since I entered the inner sanctum, so I don't think I've come across her yet."

"The way they talked about her, she sounded _big_." Minuet shuddered. "Oh, the spirits looked so scared and worried. I hope we can find a way to help her."

"We'll have to," Link reminded her. "If the spirits sealed the door because Queen Gohma's gone mad, then we'll have to help her before we can leave again."

"Link!" Minuet said suddenly, coming to an abrupt halt, and Link looked around to see that the hallway they had been walking down had come to an end. Much like the hall leading to the spider room, this corridor was more like a tunnel of spiderweb, and the door at the end of it was massive and circular, made entirely out of stone and carved with the images of hundreds and hundreds of stylized spiders. Link felt Minuet grip his arm tightly. "Link, I can feel it! The taint on the temple is coming from in there! It... it's so dark I can't even see, Link..."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll guide you."

"She's in there. Gohma."

He nodded, having assumed as much. "Are you frightened?"

"More than I've ever been in my life. But I want to go in there. I want to help her, even if she's possessed by that horrible black taint. I can't imagine what it would be like to have something like that inside of me." She gave him a hesitant look. "Are... are _you _frightened?"

For a brief moment, the back of Link's left hand felt strangely warm. "More than I've ever been in my life," he echoed, thinking of the images of the brave, sword-wielding hero that had decorated the outside of the temple. "But I'm going to go in anyway."

"You're humming again," she whispered.

Side by side they stepped up to the door, and as if by magic it rolled smoothly away, inviting them inside.

___________

_**Thoughts:**_

First of all, massive apologies for how long it took me to write this. My other big fanfiction project, Finding the Cure, has really been getting into stride lately and I wanted to focus on that for a while. Shadowsong will probably update rather sporadically until Finding the Cure is finished, so don't expect quick updates.

With that said, in the next chapter we will meet (in large, boss battle font) **Possessed Arachnid: Queen Gohma**. But I'm sure you all saw that coming.


	9. Forest: Gohma

**The Legend of Zelda: Shadowsong  
Book One - Forest**

**Chapter Nine:  
Possessed Arachnid: Queen Gohma**

The stench that wallowed outward in sickening waves from the dark doorway of Gohma's lair was putrid enough to make Link's eyes water and his stomach heave nauseously. Beside him, Minuet made a small gagging sound and put her hands over her mouth and nose. It was the smell of rot; of disease-blotched vines and creepers decaying into blackened slime while still they lived, and as Link and Minuet entered the final room of the temple, sagecloaks pressed to their faces like masks to prevent themselves from breathing in too much of the foul air, its gruesome source met their eyes.

No green remained in this room, only bilious yellow and blood-colored red. The chamber was easily the size of the cavernous temple entryway, but it was completely circular, its walls rising up around them and meeting again in a domed ceiling far above. A massive circular oculus at the very peak of the dome, closed off as a means of escape despite its size by a thin network of elaborate black iron grating, released a shaft of light into the murky gloom, and this shaft seemed to rise from the center of the floor like a pillar made from sunlight, faintly illuminating the shadows beyond. Vines covered every surface, and they were sickly, putrid things, bristling with foot-long spines and so deformed by disease and corruption that they bled foul yellow sap, which pooled around the edges of the floor like a tacky, viscous moat.

Staring up at the oculus, Link could just make out the pale shroud of a massive spiderweb stretched across the entire ceiling, parting only to let the light shine through, as if the spider that created it had been too afraid to go near that lone column of brightness.

Gohma was nowhere to be seen, hiding, perhaps, in the concealing pall of cobwebs above.

"Where is she?" he whispered to Minuet. His voice echoed eerily in the huge, silent room.

It was as though the temple had been waiting for him to speak, for as soon as the last echoes of his voice died away, the door behind them rolled slowly shut with a deep grinding noise. There was a sense of finality as it at last slammed into place against the wall, and Link somehow knew that it wasn't going to open again. Minuet gripped his right arm tightly, whimpering.

"She's... She's up _there._" The girl's quavering arm rose, and she pointed upward at the shadowy webbing just beyond the light of the oculus. Link squinted into the gloom, trying to make out what she was pointing at. High above, nestled in the deep crenellations of the chamber's dome, a dark shape was huddled up against the palely glowing spiderweb.

The boy's breath caught and his legs felt suddenly unstable. Even at this distance the temple guardian was gigantic. Although he had meant to call out to her, his next words came out as more of a hushed rasp. "Queen Gohma?"

Somewhere in the midst of that black shape, a single huge eye flickered open. Burning a deep, reddish saffron, it swiveled around manically before fixing its unblinking gaze on the two of them, its garnet pupil dilating. His words were answered by a rattling hiss.

"Oh Farore..." Minuet breathed, and her whole body was shaking out of fear.

"Minuet, I don't know what to do," Link murmured to her while that mad eye stared down at the both of them. "What am I supposed to say to her?" He was honestly at a loss. With Gohma's great eye glaring down at him, his mind had gone blank.

The guardian's voice rattled again.

"Oh Farore, oh Farore," Minuet repeated. "She's... Link, use your spirit sense! She's _talking!_"

As reluctant as he was to open himself to the spirits and leave his body vulnerable in a place so tainted, Link trusted Minuet, and so he closed his eyes and tried to let his other senses reach out into the realm of the ethereal. With his senses magnified, Gohma's stare was like a beam of heat burning itself into his skin, and on every side the black taint that had nearly blinded Minuet swirled around him in slick, oily tendrils. The silent watcher was there as well, the feeling of it pressing in all around Link as if the mysterious spirit was everywhere at once, but it said nothing, only watching and waiting to see what he would do.

Another of Gohma's death-rattles, and Link's eyes flew open in shock as the rasping, insectoid sound formed into coherent words. Even as the spirit-sense shattered around him her voice remained, speaking low and strained, like a person on their deathbed with barely enough breath left to speak.

"_Whooo... trespasses... in the temple of Farore..."_

The boy's gaze rested for a moment on Minuet, but she had dissolved into terrified sobbing, singing to herself the ancient children's rhyme to ward off evil. "Irikokeht the Shadow, he walks the mirrored keep..." Without her connection to the Kokiri spirits, Link was on his own.

He turned to face Gohma's stare, hoping he looked braver than he felt. "My name is Lincoln Shepherd, and this is Minuet Weaver." He spread what was left of his ragged green cloak out so that the arachnid queen could see. "We're in training to be Sages, and we... We've come to help you."

"_Yooooou..."_ the massive spider said in a hissed whisper that nevertheless carried through the great empty room. _"So you are... the Hero of... this cycle. Yoooou have arrived... far too late... to be of any help to meeeee..."_

On Link's right side, Minuet's chanting grew more frantic. "He comes when you are dreaming, so dare you fall asleep..."

The warmth on the back of Link's left hand that had first begun at the doorway to Gohma's lair began to grow in intensity. "We have to!" he argued. "We promised the Kokiri spirits. There has to be some way." He had wanted to act the part of a Sage, hadn't he? And wasn't this what being a Sage was all about? Not cleaning out the temple, or meditating, or praying for the plants to grow, but dealing with dark, threatening magics that were determined to destroy everything he held sacred.

"And if he comes to take you, then this is what you say..." Minuet whimpered.

"_Yooooou should not... have come here, Hero..." _Gohma rattled, her voice growing even more strained with each word. _"I am... no longer a temple guardian. Only a puppet... of Irikokeht the Shadow. For centuries he has... been sealed within this... temple, but now that... the triforces draw closer together... he has become self-aware. I can... hold him back... no longer..."_

"I-ri-ko-keht-fo-knil-knil, to make him go away..." Minuet finished, and started again, her hands tightly clasped at her chest as if the simple childhood song was a prayer to Farore. "Irikokeht the Shadow, he walks the mirrored keep. He comes when you are dreaming, so dare you fall asleep..."

"What do you mean, self aware?" Link called out over the rhythm of Minuet's agitated chanting. "Who is Irikokeht; that soul eating monster from the old children's stories?"

"And if he comes to take you, then this is what you say: I-ri-ko-keht-fo-knil-knil, to make him go away..."

A pained hiss escaped the spider's jaws, and her whole body shuddered. _"It issss too late! If yoooou wish to... help meeee... then yooou must... KILL ME!"_

And with a mighty leap, she launched herself through the air at Link and Minuet.

Link's body was moving before his mind had even registered the danger. He wrapped his arms around a fear-frozen Minuet and threw them both to the side, hitting the ground and rolling away just as Queen Gohma's monstrous form came crashing to earth, making the entire room shudder with her landing and sending bits of stone debris clattering down from the ceiling. He scrambled to his feet in time to watch in horror as the spider's eight, ectomorphic black legs struck the vine-covered stone ground with force enough to raise sparks and the beast slowly raised herself to her full height. He had been wrong before; Gohma wasn't gigantic, she was _gargantuan_.

Mantled in ragged white hair that hung off her segmented arachnid body, the spider queen's twenty foot tall carapace loomed over Link, and her lone red-yellow eye glared malevolently down at him behind venomous fangs as long as his entire body, glistening with transparent acids that smoked in the stinking air. There was a thick chain wrapped like a collar around what might have passed for her neck, and dangling from it swung a tiny key of green-patina'd metal, dwarfed by her mass.

Link whipped his bow out and aimed an arrow at the center of the spider's bloated body, but didn't fire. "Minuet, get up!" he muttered through gritted teeth to the terrified girl sprawled across the ground behind him, and she complied, clamoring to her feet and dashing away across the room with wide eyes. The point of Link's arrow wavered slightly as Gohma closed in. With each step she took, her spiked legs smashed into the ground and sent chips of stone flying. The rotting vines scrawled across the floor snapped away like whips in her wake.

He must have bruised his left hand at some point while he was exploring the temple, because at the moment it felt as if it were on fire.

Link didn't want to hurt her. He and Minuet had promised the forest spirits that they would try to save the guardian, and so even with the monumental spider bearing down on him, he held his ground and tried one last time to speak to her. "Queen Gohma! I'm wearing a sagecloak, I'm Sage Fado's apprentice! You're not allowed to hurt me! Please, listen-"

One of those lance-like legs swept around and caught Link full in the chest, and his grip on the bow slipped and sent the arrow sailing, only to bounce harmlessly off Gohma's canescent hide. The boy was lifted off his feet and sent flying thirty feet across the room. His back hit the vine-covered wall and for the second time in so many days his head struck stone. The old injury he had almost forgotten, the blow to the head from fighting the Boko Baba, flared up as if needles made from white-hot iron were being hammered through his skull and into his brain.

His feet hit the floor and he swayed dangerously, his vision blurring...

_NO,_ the watching spirit commanded. _You will not pass out now; you are so much stronger than that._

With some difficulty Link raised his bow again and nocked another arrow, and this time he fired it without hesitation, striking the temple guardian just below the fangs and again doing no damage. Gohma's legs worked faster and she broke into a run, thundering towards him and intent on ramming him into the wall once more. He shot at her three more times before diving out of the way, but the arrows were absolutely useless. With every hit they simply bounced away.

"LINK!" The scream came from the part of the circular room nearest the door, where Minuet was crouched into a ball, making herself as small as possible. "Link, you have to find a weak point! You have to shoot her somewhere where the arrows won't just bounce off!"

"She doesn't _have_ a weak point," he shouted back.

"Yes she does! The spirits say... eye! It's her eye, Link! It's the only part of her body that isn't protected!"

Queen Ghoma scuttled around and rushed him again, and the pain in Link's head was making it hard to concentrate. "What...?"

"The EYE, Link! The weak point is the eye!"

Of course. The spider's bulbous eye glimmered maliciously in the middle of her head, and Link aimed at it and loosed an arrow. It struck the vulnerable eyeball in mid-rush, and Ghoma, screaming furiously as she was suddenly, _painfully_ blinded, smashed headlong into the wall. The entire temple quaked horribly, and part of the dome above crumbled and collapsed on top of Gohma, crushing the colossal spider into the ground and flooding the huge circular chamber with sunlight. The chain around the arachnid queen's neck snapped, and the tiny green key she'd been wearing fell to the ground with a little _clink_ and bounced across the carpet of dead and broken vines.

It came to a rest in front of Minuet, and, looking shell-shocked, she picked it up. "Did... did we just win?"

Link stared down through a haze of pain at the slowly widening pool of syrupy black liquid oozing out from underneath the pile of rubble that had pulverized Gohma. "I killed her. I didn't mean to kill her, I just..." He put a hand to his pounding temple. "Just..."

"Link?"

And then it was as if time had stopped. The world around Link froze; Minuet turned statuesque with his name still hanging on her lips. In that split second when the world held its breath, the curse on the forest temple finally broke free.

He saw it rise from the detritus: a humanoid, pitch-black shape, like a living shadow. Clawing its spectral way out of the temple guardian's now useless body, its glowing, blood-red eyes stared out at Link from a shady translucent face that had haunted every child in Hyrule through nightmares and bedtime stories, exactly as it had been depicted in every picture book he'd ever read. Irikokeht the Shadow, the Eater of Souls.

That cursed silhouette at last pulled itself free from Gohma's corpse and immediately collapsed, tumbling down the pile of debris and rolling to the floor at Link's feet, too weakened by its recent defeat even to stand. Hissing wickedly, it pushed itself to its hands and knees. Link took a step backwards, and the thing that had driven Gohma to her death rested its eyes on him once again.

"_My body..."_ it coughed weakly, and to Link's horror it stretched out a hand and seized him by the ankle, and try as he might he could not pull away. _"You've killed it... A new body! I need a new body!"_

"No!" Link gasped, trying desperately to pull his leg out of its viselike grasp.

It felt as though that same oily black taint that had corrupted the temple was now sliding itself under his skin where it gripped him, poisoning his veins as it worked its horrible way through his body, and Link realized with shocked revulsion that he, like Gohma, was about to be possessed. "No!" he shouted again, trying to kick it away. "I-ri-ko-keht-fo-knil-knil! I-RI-KO-KEHT-FO-KNIL-KNIL!!"

_That chant doesn't actually work,_ was the quiet thought of the unseen watcher, and as it spoke Link felt a strange tingling sensation, as if something fluid and warm and not at all unpleasant had slipped gently up his spine and eased itself into the base of his skull. When the voice spoke again, it was from within his own head. _But this will._

And his skull exploded with agony as his left hand burst into light.

* * *

"Link! Link! Link, please don't be dead!"

Lincoln Shepherd opened his eyes slowly, and Minuet's anxious face swam into view, wavering and blurred. He was lying sprawled out on his back on the vine-choked floor, and sunlight streamed in from a gaping hole in the ceiling above. His head throbbed painfully. "Min...uet?"

"Oh, Link!" There were tears in her wide green eyes. "You... you did it, Link! You killed Gohma! We couldn't save her but at least we stopped the curse!"

Link groaned and closed his eyes. "No we didn't. Didn't you see that... that thing? It grabbed my ankle and then there was this glowing golden light coming from my hand and it was like it... exploded or something, but it wasn't dead, just gone, or weakened, and..." Opening his eyes again, he trailed off at the worried look on her face. "Didn't you see it?"

She shook her head. "Those rocks fell and killed Gohma, and then you just collapsed."

He stared up at her, baffled. Minuet was the one with the spirit sense she couldn't turn off; he was used to her seeing things that he could not, but never had it happened the other way around. "It was Irikokeht the Shadow. He attacked me and tried to possess me!"

Minuet's eyebrows furrowed with concern. "Link, you hit your head really hard in that fight..."

"But you didn't see anything..." He was too exhausted to keep his eyes open any longer, and so he closed them again with a sigh. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I did just imagine it or something."

"But there's a way out now," she told him, trying to sound cheerful but still clearly shaken up. "We can just climb up over the rubble."

"I killed Gohma," he murmured sleepily.

"What? Oh no, Link, please stay awake."

"Hm...?" Her voice sounded oddly muffled, like she was speaking from a long ways away and through a heavy fog.

"Please, Link. Don't go to sleep now. Link! Link, I can't carry you back to Ordon by myself!"

But he was already drifting off into unconsciousness, and the safe darkness enveloped him as Minuet's pleading voice faded away. There was someone waiting for him in that darkness, a silent presence watching like a pair of unseen eyes from the shadows. Some small part of his tired mind registered that the mysterious presence that had observed and guided him throughout the temple was now immovably, irrevocably lodged in the back of his head, just as silent as before and content to watch events unfold without intervening.

_You... what are you doing inside my head? _he thought blearily.

_I need your help._

_My help?_

_Yes. But you need to wake up now._

_What...?_ he began, but a moment later another throb of pain shot through his head and his eyes flew open again. "Ah!"

He was being hoisted to his feet by two sets of arms, Minuet on one side and the bent, wizened form of Sage Fado on the other. A grim look furrowed the laugh lines on the old Sage's face as he gently shook Link awake. "On your feet, Lincoln, and stay with us now." A little blue fairy, like a sphere of dancing light, whirred in frenzied circles around the old man's head.

Link blinked lethargically. "Sage Fado?"

"Drink this," Fado commanded, and a glass bottle filled with opaque, jewel-bright red liquid was thrust into Link's hands. Recognizing the drink as a healing potion, the boy raised it to his lips and took a swig. It tasted bitterly medicinal, but as soon as he swallowed the concoction began to work its magic, soothing the pain in his skull and clearing the thick foggy haze that had been obscuring his thoughts. The Sage gave him an approving nod. "Better now?"

"Much better," he answered, handing the bottle back, and then: "Wait, no! Sage Fado, there's something inside my head. One of the Kokiri spirits, I think."

"Is it Irikokeht?" the old man asked, and Minuet gave a small gasp beside him.

"No, I don't think... Wait, you know about Irikokeht?"

Fado smiled gently. "I am the Sage of Forest, Lincoln. Of course I know what the temple was guarding. Now, if you've been possessed by Irikokeht the Shadow, that's something I need to know as soon as possible."

"It's not Irikokeht," Link replied. "When Gohma died, he tried to possess me, but this other spirit stopped him. I don't know if it's good or evil, but it's been helping us survive." His eyes widened as the realization struck him, for the first time since his thoughts had become lucid again, that he had killed the temple guardian. "Oh no... Sage Fado, we killed her!"

"The spirits asked us to help Gohma," Minuet piped in, "But we ended up killing her instead! She forced us; she was going after Link, trying to kill him! The spirits said she had to be stopped and then I told Link to shoot her in the eye and she ran straight into the wall and the temple just fell down on top of her! We didn't mean to kill her!"

The grandfatherly old Sage hushed her. "It's alright, Minuet. You didn't kill her."

"But we did!" She pointed to the pile of rubble.

"No, child. Queen Gohma is a temple guardian; she experiences a form of immortality through reincarnation. Even now Gohma's new body is hatching from a giant egg sack hidden somewhere in the temple, with all the memories of her past life intact. It will take some time for her to grow to such a size again, but she is far from dead."

"Oh..." Minuet lapsed into silence.

"Now Lincoln," Fado murmured, turning back to Link, "Once we've returned to Ordon, we'll see if we can find out just who this mysterious spirit of yours is."

"What about Irikokeht?" he asked, and Sage Fado's smile turned disconsolate.

"I'm afraid that nothing can be done about Irikokeht the Shadow. It is a small mercy that he is no doubt weakened by battle, but even so, the seal on the temple is broken. The Eater of Souls is free."

______________

_**Thoughts:**_

This chapter is the product of one massively inspirational all-night writing session, which is how I tend to write most fight scenes. Boss battles are _fun_.

Our main villain has finally shown up: Irikokeht the Shadow, aka Dark Link with a more convoluted name! Although really he's been here all along, what with Zelda's little Biggoron's Bluff story in chapter three. I always thought he would make an excellent main villain.

That anti-evil rhyme in its entirety, by the way, is "Irikokeht the Shadow, he walks the mirrored keep. He comes when you are dreaming, so dare you fall asleep? And if he comes to take you, then this is what you say: I-ri-ko-keht-fo-knil-knil to make him go away." I've composed a little tune to go with it, so I'll post a link to the midi file on my main page under Shadowsong's story progress, in case anyone is interested.

In the next chapter (which also happens to be the FINAL chapter of book one) there will be lots of exposition and we may actually find out what on earth is going on.


	10. Forest: Hero

**The Legend of Zelda: Shadowsong  
Book One – Forest**

**Chapter Ten: Hero**

Link had meant to stop off at his house just long enough to change out of his ragged, cobweb-plastered sagecloak, but the energy boost from the potion Sage Fado had given him was rapidly wearing off. He collapsed exhaustedly onto his bed still fully clothed, intending only to rest his eyes for a bit, and fell almost instantly into a deep and dreamless sleep.

About two hours later he awoke to the sound of someone tapping politely on the door and rather groggily pulled himself out of bed, noting as he did so that his Pa had stopped by to tuck him in and stow the folded remains of his sagecloak neatly on a shelf above the fireplace. Still bleary-eyed, Link crossed the room and answered the door.

Minuet smiled at him meekly from the doorstep. She had changed into a clean white blouse with short, wide sleeves made from green fabric, and a stiff skirt of heavy brown wool that reached almost to her knees, embroidered around the edges with a floral pattern. "I thought you might have fallen asleep," she explained. "We were supposed to meet with Sage Fado a while ago. How's your head?"

"Fine," he answered, touching the still-tender spot at the back of his skull. "Sorry for holding things up. Let me put some clean clothes on and I'll be right out."

She nodded, and Link shut the door again.

He located a pair of simple beige trousers and one of his father's long green shirts, so oversized on him that it fell past his waist like a skirt and he had to use a belt to keep it from flapping around in the breeze. The Shepherd household consisted only of Link and his father. They seldom did any washing and, when in need of clean clothing, made do with what they had. His bow was still balanced against the end of the bed where he had left it, and he strapped the quiver to his back without a second thought. Now that the adventure was over he'd need to give it back to Fado.

In the late afternoon sunlight, Ordon Village was calm and quiet. Children played in the grass, running up a small hillock and laughing as they tumbled down it again, their voices muted by the surrounding forest. A woman walked along one of the meandering dirt paths between the houses, and the wreath of Ordon's Bells in her hair slipped slightly as she stooped to take her young son by the hand. On the far side of the clearing a few men lounged with their arms crossed over the gate that led to Ordon's small goat paddock. They were peaceful, unaware of what had just that morning taken place in the temple hidden deep in the woods.

As Link and Minuet walked side by side towards Fado's wide wooden porch, the boy couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if the two of them hadn't gone to the temple the night before. If his arrow hadn't pierced her blazing eye, Ghoma's possessed body might have remained trapped in the temple for all eternity, enraged and suffering, but still effectively sealed away.

Or perhaps she would have finally broken free and razed Ordon to the ground in her mad stampede toward greater Hyrule. For a moment Link pictured the village as a broken ruin. Splintered wood, broken beams, the scattered remains of stone foundations, smoldering ash from fallen thatch set ablaze by cooking fires. Bodies lying in the trampled grass, caustic spider venom dissolving them from within... He shook his head to clear the thought away, but his left hand tightened on the bow. Had he prevented something like that, or just prolonged it?

The wind caught lightly at his shirtsleeves, and the voice in his head offered no answer.

"Do you think you can save your sagecloak?" he asked Minuet, changing the subject on himself because there were things he would rather not think about.

Minuet gave a small laugh at that. "Mum's washing it right now, but I don't think all those spiderwebs will ever come out." She cast a quick glance over his apparel. "How about yours?"

"I showed it to Pa on the way to the house," Link replied with an offhanded smile, "And he says we may as well burn it and buy me a new one. There's not really much left to salvage."

"Oh, that's right. It was all ripped up, wasn't it?"

The boy nodded.

"It's strange, you know?" she murmured. "All this time, I thought sagecloaks had some kind of magic. That they protected us. And I guess they did, but it was only because the spirits saw us wearing them and knew that we were apprenticed to Sage Fado, not because of any magic." She looked a little disappointed. "It was just normal respect for what we were training to be. And if something really evil wanted to hurt us, it _could_, and a bunch of green fabric wasn't going to do anything to stop it."

Thinking back to when he had argued futilely with Gohma about how she _wasn't allowed _to hurt him because of his sagecloak, Link supposed he had always believed the same thing. He had believed in a lot of things, a few hours ago. Now he wasn't sure of any of them.

The Sage of Forest was seated in his usual rocker on the porch with his violin in his hands, obviously not troubled by his apprentices' tardiness. There were a few children gathered in a lopsided semicircle around him, but he shoed them away at Link and Minuet's approach.

"Lincoln, Minuet, have a seat," the old Sage said with a small smile as he gestured to the smooth wooden ground in front of him. The two of them sat obediently in cross-legged positions, and Link held out his bow to Fado.

"Sage Fado, I forgot to tell you before; I found this in the temple."

Fado nodded and told him, "Keep it for now. You can take it back next time you visit the temple." He sat back in his rocker. "Now then, we have a mysterious spirit among us. Tell me, how might we go about finding out its name?"

Link tried to think of some potion or ritual that would give him the name of a spirit, but it was Minuet who piped up hesitantly, "Um... Sage Fado, couldn't we just ask?"

Fado's eyes glinted approvingly. "Very good, Minuet. The simplest way to deal with spirits is to speak to them with polite respect. They are more often misunderstood than malevolent." He turned to Link. "Now then, Lincoln, if you would address the spirit in your head – with good manners, mind you – and tell us what it answers?"

It seemed almost too simple to Link, who had expected something more along the lines of smoking potions and magic symbols drawn in chalk on the ground, but he did as the Sage instructed, closing his eyes and reaching out with his spirit sense.

_Spirit, are you there?_

_I am tired, _it answered faintly. _We will speak another time._

_Please, my friends and I just want to know your name._

A long pause, and then: _Very well. Memories are... fleeting. Distant. But I think someone once called me... Hero?_ It spoke slowly, as if unsure of its own words, but Link's mind abruptly thought back to the dramatic imagery carved across the walls of the forest temple. That stylized stone swordsman was the only hero he knew.

_I remember that face,_ said the spirit, sharing in his memories. _I wore it once._

_You're the man carved into the temple? _Link asked, slightly awed at the concept. He had idolized that ancient, nameless hero for as long as he could remember.

_Yes._

"He says he's the ghost of that swordsman from the temple," the boy said aloud, eyes still tightly shut, and he heard Minuet gasp beside him.

_I am no ghost, _the spirit stated sharply, and Link translated for the others as it spoke. _I am not dead, but merely asleep. That is why I need your help. You must wake me up._

Its voice was growing tired and weak as it attempted to explain. _I do not remember much... I know that long ago I held the Triforce of Courage._

Link had no idea what the Triforce of Courage was, but was loathe to interrupt, and so continued to translate faithfully without pausing to ask.

_I tried to stop Irikokeht and failed, _the spirit continued, _and I fell into an endless sleep from which I could not awaken. In my dreams I strayed from my body. As I wandered I lost all that made me human; my memories and my name. But last night I could sense the Triforces drawing closer together, and because I was once so intimately connected to them, their growing magic helped me regain some of my sense of self. I think it must have done the same for Irikokeht, for he awoke at the same time and began trying to break free of his seal. When the Triforces at last met, he succeeded._

_That is why I need your help, _it finished quietly. _I will not let you suffer for my failure. I ask only that you return me to my body so that I may awaken and defeat him. Irikokeht is my burden to bear._

"But why does it have to be me?" Link said aloud. "I mean, I want to help you, but I'm just an apprentice Sage. I can't see what good I'd be."

The spirit's voice was strained, and with its last words it faded away into nothingness and did not speak again. _Ask the Sage... about the mark... on your left hand._

And for the first time since his trip to the forest temple, Link opened his eyes to stare down at the hands clasped in his lap, and saw the symbol emblazoned in faint gold against his skin. "Sage... Fado?" he murmured carefully, holding the hand in front of his face and turning it back and forth so that the golden mark shimmered as it caught the light. Minuet watched him with wide eyes.

The Sage of Forest let out a short hiss of breath and slowly pinched the bridge of his nose. "A live Cycle. Farore guide us. Farore guide us."

*** * ***

_This is the part of the story, _Zelda thought to herself, _where my grandmother fled the castle and trained in secret to become a great warrior._

Curled up under the soft white blankets of her own canopied bed, hugging a care-worn stuffed toy to her chest (a little blue octorok, knitted for her by Impa when she was four), Zelda did not feel like a great warrior. She just felt confused and tired and scared.

It was the middle of the day but the curtains had been drawn, and her room was darkened save for the crack of warm yellowish light spilling in from beneath her bedroom door. There were voices murmuring just outside, and occasionally Zelda's pointed ears caught a snatch of soft conversation: worrisome words like "betrayal" and "exile." She wormed further down into the dark folds of the bedsheets and hid her face in her pillow. They were talking about her.

Back there, in the throne room, she had used magic. She hadn't meant to, hadn't even been in control of it when it happened, but when her right hand broke forth with brilliant, white-gold light, there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Maybe she had killed the Gerudo Chief, and the unseen voices just outside were discussing her punishment. Hidden beneath the blankets, Zelda bit her lip and wiped tears from her cheeks with the fuzzy blue fabric of her stuffed octorok. _At least I won't have to marry him now, _the princess tried to tell herself, but the thought did nothing to console her.

In the dim light, a faint golden glow faded gently in and out against Zelda's right hand, tracing the shape of three triangles. She recognized that shape, if only because it dominated much of the castle's décor. It was the Triforce, the symbol of the royal family and a representation of the three goddesses, Nayru, Farore, and Din. She knew that it was supposedly a very holy and powerful mark. She didn't know why it had burned itself into her hand, but she wished it would go away. Pretty though it was, life had been so much simpler without it.

There was a quiet creak as the door opened.

"Zelda," Impa's voice murmured. "Dearie, are you awake?"

"No," Zelda answered shortly, longing for comfort and knowing she deserved only scolding.

After a moment, Impa crossed the room and pulled the bedclothes away from Zelda's tear-streaked face, and the girl sat up and wiped her eyes with the back of her slightly glowing hand. Impa sat down on the bed beside her and wrapped a muscular arm around Zelda's frail, bony shoulders. "There now, it's alright. Let's have a look at that hand."

Zelda held her arm up rather limply, and her nursemaid took it carefully by the wrist and inspected the glowing Triforce on the back of her hand. Her thumb traced one of the lower triangles.

"Am I," Zelda said hoarsely, and had to swallow and start again, "Am I going to be sent into exile?"

The arm around her shoulders gave a comforting little squeeze. "No, dear. We're going to do what we can to keep you safe here in the castle."

The horrible thought arose that what Impa really meant was "we're going to keep the rest of Hyrule safe from _you_." Her hand and its terrible power that she couldn't control had to be locked away for the good of Hyrule, and Zelda felt her eyes prickle with tears again.

"I didn't mean to..." she whimpered.

"Didn't... oh." Impa's eyes filled with realization. "Oh, Zelda, you think you did all that magic yourself?"

"I didn't?"

Impa shook her head. "No. What happened in the throne room this morning was two like kinds of powerful magic coming together after decades of separation. The magic of two Triforces."

Zelda at last released her lower lip, relief washing over her despite understanding very little of what Impa had just said. She wasn't dangerous; she hadn't killed anyone. "You mean the mark on my hand?" she asked. "When you were talking before about powerful forces and dangerous secrets, is this what you meant?"

Impa sighed. "Yes. The mark on your hand is known as the Triforce of Wisdom, and is your birthright as a princess of Hyrule. It will grant you serenity in times of fear, knowledge when you face the unknown, and guidance when you have nowhere else to turn." The speech sounded rehearsed, as if the nursemaid had given it many times before. "But it will also lead you to be crafty when you should be honest, so be wary of its power and remember that it is a tool which you control. Do not let it control you."

Zelda nodded slowly, staring down in awe at the gently glowing mark still clasped in Impa's wide hand.

"There are three Triforces," Impa continued gravely. "And three triforces bearers, the Princess, the Hero, and the Thief. Every hundred years these three are reincarnated in what we call the Cycles, and when any two of the bearers meet, their Triforces will recognize each other and all three Triforces will awaken. This is what happened to you today, when your Triforce resonated with that of the Gerudo chief."

"I'm... reincarnated?" The princess was still letting all of this sink in. It felt as though she had been dropped directly into one of Impa's old stories, and the world around her felt strangely unreal. "I had a past life? I can't remember anything like that. Shouldn't I be able to remember being... someone else?"

"You do have all of those memories," her nursemaid explained. "Memories of more past lives than you could ever imagine, all locked away somewhere in your head. They're yours to access, if you ever need them. All you have to do is try."

Of course she had never tried before; she'd never known she could. Curiously, Zelda thought as far back as she could remember, and then, quite simply, thought back even farther...

"I remember tulips. And there was a boy with a green hat, and we were spying on someone through a window."

"Your grandmother's memory," Impa answered. "She was the Wisdom-bearer of the previous Cycle."

"I'm the Wisdom-bearer." Her voice was reverent. "This is just like a fairy tale. But it's real."

"Zelda, dear, just because something is like a story does not make it good. Stories are full of evil. The stories I told you about your grandmother happened during the last Cycle, and when the Triforces meet, history is forced to repeat itself. The Thief is destined to kidnap you and endeavor to become king, and the Hero is destined to kill him."

"Oh," Zelda said quietly.

Impa placed her palm over Zelda's hand. "You're safe, dear. From now on, you'll have guards with you wherever you go. The Thief won't be able to hurt you."

"And that Gerudo boy, Shirobi Rahad, he's the Thief? Does he know?"

"He has the Triforce of Power, yes. And I assume he knows parts of it, if not the whole. He knows he is the reincarnation of Ganondorf Dragmire, the last Power-bearer, because that aspect of the Cycles is an important part of Gerudo culture. I do not think he knows the rest."

Zelda couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the older boy. Even if he was going to kidnap her and try to take over her kingdom, it was because destiny was going to force him to, and he was going to pay for it with his life. All because she had ignored Impa's warnings and decided to play at spying. It seemed as though no one was going to punish her for that, but now more than ever the princess felt as though she deserved it. She bit her lip and looked away.

"Where is he now?"

"The entire embassy is still in their guest suite in the castle, under heavy guard. Now that the treaty has failed Hyrule is officially at war with the Gerudo, and your father believes that holding their chief alive and captive will work to our advantage." Impa looked vaguely displeased at this, but was quick to try and reassure Zelda that her father's actions were justified. "But Zelda, know that you are very important to him. He wouldn't do something like this unless he was sure you would be safe."

Zelda was silent for a long time. Her kingdom was at war.

"If anything does happen," Impa added, "And you have to flee the castle on your own, go to Kakariko Village. There's a woman named Adelaide who will take you in if you show her your Triforce, or any other proof that you're a member of the royal family. I'll meet up with you there as soon as I can."

A small, nervous smile crossed the princess's face, but it dissolved quickly. All too soon she would have to run away or be kidnapped. And her kingdom was at war. She felt very tired, all of a sudden, and so she leaned her head against Impa's shoulder and closed her eyes.

"I don't think I like being in a story."

Impa ran a soothing hand through Zelda's silky blonde hair. "Remember this, dear. In the countless times the Cycles have repeated, the Thief has never managed to win. The Hero stops him every time."

"Impa?"

"Hm?"

"If I'm the Princess, and Shirobi Rahad is the Thief, then who is the Hero?"

Although Zelda never saw it, Impa's face grew strangely worried at that, and her eyes traveled downward to look, not at the soft carpet that covered the floor of Zelda's room, but _through_ it, as if by staring hard enough Impa could see down into the depths of the castle dungeon. A moment later she turned back to the dozing princess with an offhanded, "We'll know for sure when he comes to save you."

But for a brief second, it had seemed as though Impa wasn't sure there would be a Hero this Cycle. There were some wounds that even reincarnation could not heal.

**___________________**

_**Thoughts:**_

Answers you already knew to questions you don't care about. Hooray for exposition! Ah well, I hope at least some of it was insightful. The whole reincarnation thing only really works if you allow that the Triforce is not always involved and the Theif is not always Ganon, but the Zelda timeline is so warped that I find it's best just to ignore the problem and think about kittens.

Anyhow, this was the final chapter of book one, so next time it's on to book two: Fire.


End file.
